Of Ships, Brandy and Women
by ZeBoris
Summary: "Firstly you must always implicitly obey orders, without attempting to form any opinion of your own regarding their propriety. Secondly, you must consider any man who speaks ill of your king, an enemy." Follows the (mis)adventures of the Stormwind Royal Navy aboard HMS Defiance, as a moody Gilnean Captain meets a rowdy Surgeon with a questionable past. AUish and M-rated.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

 _"_ _For you to better understand the circumstances, you should go back to where it all begun…"_

"Adelint…"

The light was nigh blinding her and the drilling pain in her head made her want to vomit.

"Adelint!" the soft, familiar voice urged again. The blazing, burning, white light flooded through her barely open eyelids, forcing her breath to be caught at her throat.

Then silence and darkness came once more; she was falling. Falling and falling, in an endless tunnel that she was unsure if she could climb back up from – or if she even wanted at that point.

SPLASH!

Panic surged through her conscious and unconscious self, every fiber of her being suddenly tense and she awoke with a start, gasping for air as if she was drowning. Once air filled those tobacco-wrecked lungs and the mid-day light gave her vision, the blonde found herself in a familiar setting – the tavern – gawking at her close friend, soaked to the bone.

"You fell asleep on the tavern table." A tan arm extending to snatch the bottle Adelint was cradling in her arm, barely any of the murky liquid left inside. "AGAIN." The annoyed voice stated slightly louder, earning a groan from the drunken one. Adelint squinted her eyes, trying her hardest to recall anything from last night, alas, it was in vain.

It certainly took many attempts, a lot of effort and sheer power of will to lift and transport the drunken husk of a woman Adelint had become. A pleasant looking face with hay blonde hair had turned into a lurching, pale zombie with a matted excuse of a blonde mane and hollow eyes, 'adorned' by black circles. The kohl that she often used as a cosmetic and to hide the testaments of her insomnia was smudged all over her face. Bottle in one hand, the soaked, white shirt clinging onto her wiry frame, Adelint stumbled across the cobble of the city with Fay's help.

At least the citizens did not find the spectacle unusual, save for the few deviant looks she got due to the white fabric clinging to her chest. She wasn't the first and certainly not the last person who had too much to drink, but at this point she would be a familiar sight, dragging herself through the streets.

An impish grin broke Adelint's dull expression and she tore away from the tan, black-haired leatherworker, emptying her stomach on the side of the road. Fay merely watched her, a pang of pity crossing her features as the blonde stumbled back on her feet, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and then her sleeve.

"Don't you look at me like this, Wagner." Adelint croaked, her voice hoarse from last night's substance abuse.

"If you don't want to be pitied, then don't be bloody pitiful, Edelhart." Fay spoke with that ice in her voice; ice that shattered castles and young men's hearts.

With narrowed eyes and a renewed flame in her eyes, Adelint made to swing for her friend's face, alas she fell down and then did not get up, passing out. That would be a long day, Fay thought to herself, hauling Adelint over her shoulder and earning a few amused snickers, along with a couple of worried gazes.

 ** _Bloody Adelint, when would she learn?_**

 _(I own nothing recognizable, it is all property of Blizzard entertainment.)_


	2. Captain Hawkins

**Captain Hawkins**

 _"_ _Excellence at what you do, is the best deterrent to sexism, dear child"._

The city was brimming with life that afternoon. Merchants, Mercenaries, Army Recruiters and Civilians all mingling together, clotting the streets, especially around Old Town and the newest pub, the Shady Lady. The atmosphere was light and cheerful, almost made one forget there was a war going on in some alternate dimension of another planet.

Adelint was among those that wandered the cobblestone streets that afternoon, her mind was cloudy and there was a faint, dull thumping in the back of her head, courtesy of her hangover. Everything was annoying and bothering her, not even the harbor's relaxing sounds and surroundings were enough, so she settled for a pointless stroll. She could already see what she would be doing the evening to come, it was what she knew best, after killing – Drinking and smoking in local taverns.

Her feet led her inside the Cathedral Square, for whatever reason that was. She normally hated that place. Well-dressed nobles and recruiting officers for either the army or other organizations plagued the place, but at least she wore clean clothes that afternoon. She grinned as she kept to her thoughts about last night's bar fight, until she stopped abruptly before a noticeboard, a particular poster ripping her away of her musings.

"Gee I wish was a man to enlist in the navy!" read the poster featuring a pleasant female that could only be described as a home staying wife, wearing a traditional, simple dress.

Anger, disgust, frustration; a torrent of unpleasant feelings rose up to her head and she tore off the poster, stomping further in the Cathedral's premises, her amber eyes looking about for the characteristic uniform that belonged to the Navy. It did not take long to find the culprit. There he was, a man in his prime, donning the uniform navy officers did, idly sitting against a fence. His face was obscured by the book he was reading; "1000 and 1 days of annoying the Tirasians".

She sized him up in mere moments. Clean, ironed uniform, streaks of grey through his hair, no wedding ring and polished shoes. Just as she had thought he would be – Near fifty, unwed, uptight and either of noble birth or belonging to the higher classes. Positively emetic, she thought.

"Are you responsible for this atrocity?!" Adelint practically screamed at him from a distance, shaking the ripped poster and interrupting his pleasant laughter. He lowered the book, looking towards her and smiling politely. Emerald green met bright amber and she was surprised by the man's calm demeanor.

"Why yes, my dear, I dare say I was the one who made it, in fact." Came the bass, accented voice.

Lovely, she thought. A Gilnean and a heavy smoker at that. This man would be the death of her, she knew there and then. If she did not stab him and get hanged, she would do other, worse things to him, or with him. She mentally slapped herself and recovered from the mesmerizing, beard-defined smile trance.

"What is this nonsense, what is your problem with women, you Gilnean clown?!" she shrieked at him again, causing the man to close his tome and stand to his full height, approaching her.

He was practically towering over her and was slightly intimidating, but it was not the first nor the last that she faced. She could kill him in an instant, he would never see it coming from the likes of her, and she would-

"Problem? Why, there is no problem if I may say so, my dear. In fact, I adore women! They are beautiful, graceful, full of love and joy." he said, hands locked behind his back as he circled about her like a vulture, sizing her up.

"It just so happens, that they are not meant for war!" came his overjoyed conclusion and he stayed his ground, looking at her with gentle eyes.

She stood there, dumbfounded, staring at him for a few long moments in uncomfortable silence, which evidently he did not mind. Then she started chuckling. Tears started streaming down her eyes as she erupted in a hysterical laughter, earning a baffled, arched brow from him.

"You know…" she said with effort in between her laughter, earning his attention once more. "I am willing to bet with you, that I can do a better job aboard your ship than the rest of your sailors."

That is where she had caught him unprepared. He blinked, looking at her with his thick brows furrowed, evidently in disbelief. "I see" he finally said, rubbing his bearded chin thoughtfully and one could say, hesitantly.

"Oh what's that, Captain? Are you actually afraid that I will prove to you that your bigoted views are wrong and shatter your world theory?" she pushed, offering a lopsided, impish grin, knowing fully well it worked and she was fighting a winning battle.

"Miss you d—"he tried to excuse himself, a loud whistle and a man waving from the distance interrupting them.

"Eeeeey Capitano, how's it going? Got yourself a wench already?" his gravelly voice said, earning a snort from Adelint.

He was dressed in traditional sailor attire, his skin was dark and his head bald, chin covered by a dark grey beard. But she knew where to look to see a man's demeanor, and it was not his clothes nor his appearance choices. Narrowed, shifty and cruel, his eyes darted across her form, making his sordid grin even more unsettling. Her distaste of him must have been evident, as he leered and raised his brows suggestively, causing her to cringe away.

"Ah mister Gavin!" came the warm voice again, seemingly happy to see the cringe worthy individual. "Just as I was about to tell this young lady here why the navy is not for her."

Adelint snapped out of her Gavin-loathing trance, relocating herself in order to have them both in her field of vision. With a quirked brow, she silently questioned the Captain.

"You see miss, you would be an astonishing wife! You would undoubtedly mother handsome sons and brave fighters, with a spirit like that. With the right man, of course." He continued, smiling encouragingly. "However in the navy, men rarely are of high moral value, like mister Gavin here, making your safety something I cannot ensure."

Adelint looked at them both, before laughing dismissively. "I assure you, Captain, if your men wish to perish without a physician and surgeon to watch them, they can try. But I am more than capable of taking care of myself." She said, her words pointed more towards the lecherous man.

Something shifted inside the Captain, his gaze casted downwards momentarily and his shoulders slumping. Both Gavin and Adelint shared a look with each other, baffled as to what the cause of the sudden attitude change was. With a faint shrug, Adelint sniffed dismissively and turned her back, hands shoved within the tight confines of her loose pantaloons' pockets. "Right then Captain, enjoy your evening." She threw over her shoulder, striding away.

"Miss!" the Captain yelled, as if awakened from his trance, realizing he did not even know her name. All he knew was that he had seen those eyes full of fire before and how fast that fire was extinguished. "I ah—don't know your name, it is common courtesy to—"he tried to explain and recompose his calm self, clearing his throat one too many times, but was interrupted by the hoarse, female voice.

"Adelint. Adelint Sordelle." She said without hesitation, taking a few paces towards the man's direction once more, a faint, satisfied smirk pulling at the edges of her lips.

"Miss Sordelle…" he said the name once, realizing his hand was still extended to her general direction. He cleared his throat once more, fixing his jacket and assuming his military-esque pose, hands locked behind his back. "It has a nice ring to it. Regardless, if you think you are up for it, mister Gavin will demonstrate you the worst of attitudes you may encounter on board. If you think you are up for such challenge, then I would gladly take you ah—On board, yes." He said hesitantly once more, clearly mister Gavin's persuasion against this decision was the only thing he had left before submitting to the female's persistence.

With a dismissive scoff and a shake of her head, she motioned for them to lead the way. "Ladies first" the captain stated, earning an eye roll from Adelint who set to follow Gavin.

"So Miss Sordelle, what sort of experience do you have, as a surgeon and physician? Your job will be under severe pressure." He stated, walking by her side with his hands locked behind his back, eyes staring forth.

She merely snorted as a response. 'Poor, poor, Gilnean fool.' She thought, closing her eyes briefly as images flashed through her mind. 'Under pressure, my ass.' She cursed inwardly, as she recalled her times in her previous occupation; men without limbs, screaming for death to embrace them, poisons that granted a slow, agonizing death, diseases… A swift death was a commodity.

"Worry not, Captain." She said in a neutral tone, a faint frown casting a shadow over her amber eyes. "I have been born and bred for stressful situations, pressure is no stranger to me."

She was far too occupied to realize that she was grimacing heavily due to the memory and that the Captain was looking at her with his bushy brow elevated, curiosity glinting in his emerald eyes.

All thoughts and memories were dismissed with a sniff and she went about making a story up, about her time in the army, twisting and turning the fabrics of her memories, so they would fit the criteria of the man before her; she was excellent at doing that. She finished with a faint smile and a pang of guilt coursed through her veins as those emerald eyes watched her every movement and believed her every word. Then again, she was also great at dismissing her guilt very easily. 'There's no lie in what I said… Apart from me being in the army of course.' She mused to herself, walking with the man by her side. ' _I just doubt you would appreciate my actual line of work in the battlefield, Captain Hawkins.'_

The discussion between them lasted a while, just not enough. Moments of silence were shared between them, yet Hawkins seemed very comfortable in that silence. Once they reached the tailor's shop, after her signing was completed, it was her turn to don the navy's uniform. It was no problem, truly, it was not the first time she would don a uniform and certainly not the last. Albeit this time, one would be specifically tailored to her and only for her. As the Good Captain Hawkins gestured for her to go in, always a gentleman, her eyes darted about the Shop.

A lovely, and wifely, woman beamed at her, smiling politely to Hawkins. They knew each other, Adelint determined immediately, a faint grin making its way to her lips as she caught her old habits making their way to her mind once more. "Mister Hawkins!" she squealed and tore the brooding Surgeon-to-be from her musings, earning a grimace and a warm smile from Adelint and Hawkins respectively.

With brief explanations that sounded more like orders, the tall woman, clad in undoubtedly expensive robes, danced around and about Adelint, measuring and sizing while humming some obnoxious, jolly tune. _'Why am I even annoyed?'_ Adelint frowned to herself. The entire day had surely taken an unexpected turn, but she got it her way in the end – Like always. With a deep sigh, she eased the frown off her face and surrendered herself to the sound of miss Melissa humming, cutting and sewing onto her form.

An obnoxious hour later she was ready. Despite how much she disliked that wifely, dutiful and cheerful woman, she had to admit she was a splendid tailor. The uniform felt like a second skin to her and once she laid eyes to her reflection, she was hardly able to recognize herself.

Adelint took a deep breath, searching for words to compliment the tailor. "Marvelous!" came in the bass voice that she had learnt to recognize as Hawkins'. His footsteps made the wood creak as he circled her like a vulture again – No, like a Hawk. He extended his calloused hands, fixing her cravat accordingly, a faint smile made evident behind his beard. "If every woman looked like you in uniform, Miss Sordelle… I daresay I would consider recruiting them!" he said, his pleasant laugh ringing out again, conjoined by the tailor's high pitched giggle. Adelint was merely left staring, wondering if the man had ample amounts of sarcasm in his words or if he genuinely had a bad sense of humor. She offered a grin as a response to the 'joke', silently deciding the latter was most likely the case. Bloody Gilneans.

She had met the Lieutenant and the midshipman that day, Sir Damian Rodgers and Mister Christopher Remmington. The first was an uptight Gilnean man, much like Hawkins, while the latter was a more laid back and pleasant fellow, always smiling, which made his mutton chops look borderline comical. Hawkins had proceeded to apologize to them for hiring a woman, earning a stern nod from the Lieutenant and a wicked grin from the midshipman, while Adelint herself was suppressing her murderous instincts.

As they paced through the streets and down the harbor, the hair on the back of her neck pricked and she had this nagging impression someone was watching her intently, a gift and a curse really. She narrowed her eyes and her hand silently and nimbly closed about the handle of her dagger. Her head turned ever so lightly, the pleasant façade still plastered on her face while her hawkish eyes scanned the area for the 'offender' – But she saw nobody. She continued walking and with a dismissive sniff she looked forth again, catching a glimpse of raven hair and a red sash in her peripheral vision. She smirked, knowing all too well who it was.

 ** _And frankly? She was slightly disappointed she did not get caught earlier._**

 _(I own nothing recognizable, it is all property of Blizzard entertainment.)_


	3. A Surgeon's Hands - Part 1

**A Surgeon's Hands**

 **Part 1**

 _"_ _A surgeon must have the eyes of a Hawk and the strength of a Lion. For we must operate with our hands and not our hearts."_

A faint grunt escaped her lips as something shook her from her peaceful sleep again. "Go away Fay." She said knowingly, batting her hand at the general direction of her awakener.

Oh yes, Faylina Fletcher was how her partner in crime had called herself and was conveniently assigned to the role of a ship surgeon's mate. Just the thought of it made Adelint giggle, frankly. More so the fact two commissioned killers were assigned to the roles responsible for the crew's survival, was even more amusing, in her twisted humor perspective.

"Come on Sordelle, Captain's let us out!" she said, the tan female hauling Adelint to her feet. The semi-asleep female rubbed her eyes and nearly hit her head as she stretched her form. Her cabin was far too small but at least it was hers. She smoothed out her uniform and fixed her cravat, checking her reflection and smiling faintly, then scowling once she realized she was indeed smiling.

She turned, noticing Fay giving her an odd look, her thin eyebrows quirked curiously, before dismissing it with a shrug of her shoulders, sauntering off. The night was still young and they had every intention of seeing it through to its elderly years. They walked side by side as always, comfortable in their silence; they needn't say much, gazes alone were enough of a communications means for the two, after such a long time together. Their steps took them to the Pig, noticing the newest guy in some shady corner, already there. Some Connor O'Connor, he had called himself; that bear of a man. A behemoth with a big sword and an unkind face, covered by a thick beard and framed by equally unruly hair. He always wordlessly followed them, Captain's orders that was.

Upon entering the tavern, they saw it was packed and when a mug came flying by Fay's ear, it was their cue to leave. Just as they made for the exit someone went through the window, breaking it and collapsing on the floor, earning a giggle from Adelint.

The Recluse was their final choice, as the Shady Lady was packed with shady characters in black hats, nothing good, they were sure. They made way to lush, park-like quarter that mostly housed mages, alchemists and other odd or inventive individuals that dabbled with arts Faylina would rather not know about.

The place was no less crowded, of course, but at least it was more peaceful and the patrons were respected soldiers and rangers, all belonging to the 1st Royal Battalion. Ah yes, a Battalion consisted by the 71st company of footmen, the 33rd company of rangers, the shortblade infantry, the 3rd mortar platoon and of course, his royal majesty, their very ship, Defiance.

It was safe to say, they were lost among an ocean of faces unknown to them, save from a few acquaintances they had made the past few days, like the Corporal of the 71st, Alin Hayward. A stark, well-built young man with a pleasant face and his trademark van dyke facial hair. And how could anybody forget the blonde Lordaeronian, after all? He had come, bloody face and the like, beaten to a complete pulp, offering flowers to Adelint, two nights ago. The weirdest sight Fay had ever seen, truth be told. She was not sure if the shy, smiling Corporal's bloody face, or Adelint's baffled, confused and embarrassed face was the funniest.

And of course, one could not forget the Lieutenant of the Rangers. Thomas Bromhead, or Wardog. But Faylina had dubbed him mister Passionate, after an embarrassing attempt of flirting directed to Adelint, where he insisted his passion came from the Westfall blood coursing through his veins, making him as hot as the weather.

A man that hailed from the dry, Westfall lands indeed, blonde with evergreen eyes and a shadow of a stubble, the rough and partially unwashed appearance of the man made him what could be considered as ruggedly handsome, when he did not frown or angrily scowl at his recruits, snarling orders.

The heads turned once they noticed the females arriving, eyes wandering across their forms in disbelief, mainly due to the uniform they wore. Everyone in Stormwind was well aware of Hawkins and his views on women, so two of them in the navy uniform struck as odd. Far too odd. Faylina grinned wickedly and walked forth, hips swaying ever so lightly as she relished in the wanting gazes. For she relished more in the disappointment when she denied them and their advances.

One of the rangers offered a grin to Fay's direction, raking her luscious form with his eyes, shamelessly, while a more refined footman was gazing at her nervously, looking away when their gazes met. As she looked to the side at her friend, she found her grinning – The blonde well aware of the reactions the raven haired beauty coaxed out of men – and women.

"Well would you look at that Adelint. It's mister Passionate and he is looking at you." Fay leant in, whispering with a devious grin, only earning a huff from her uninterested friend. This was always the case with them. Faylina was busy breaking hearts and shattering bones with the fluttering of her eyelashes, while Adelint was getting piss drunk and repelling any form of attention given to her. What a duo they were.

O'Connor remained on their tail, repositioning himself in a dark corner and watching the Lieutenant closely as he approached the women, causing the triumphant, predatory smirk about Fay's face widen.

"Why Miss Sordelle, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Said the blonde Lieutenant, a hint of mischief in his voice, grinning cheekily and extending a hand towards Adelint. She gladly took the silent offer, being guided to the less crowded area the Lieutenant resided in; Adelint suspected it was because nobody felt particularly brave to challenge the personal space of a very temperamental Westfall-borne army officer – and they were wise doing so.

O'Connor remained in the corner, his hands locked behind his back in a formal stance, yet his eyes betrayed that his intent of escorting Faylina was not duty driven. His honey eyes were trained on her form, watching how she smiled, how she dismissed a joke with a wave of her elegant hand, how she moved – Watching her. She caught him with the corner of her eye, sending a half-smile his way before continuing her idle chatter with the ranger, ensuring the two conversing blondes were oblivious to the situation. Or so she hoped. She knew far better than anyone, not to underestimate the perception of those two hounds in civilian clothing.

Fay's attention shifted again, after a mandatory laughter at the attempt of a joke the ranger made, watching the aforementioned blonde hounds converse. She knew her friend too well, after all these years; she barely ever held a meaningful conversation, or even listened to someone speak. But this time, it was different. A smirk spread across her red-painted lips, taking in the rare sight of Adelint listening to someone speaking to her and replying accordingly. She smiled and laughed, genuinely.

 _'_ _Well mister Passionate, it appears I had underestimated you.'_ She mused and promptly looked back at the ranger, sending a sweet smile to him and causing him to momentarily lose his wording – Fortunately.

"Why Lieutenant, you sound like a man that sleeps with a pillow under his rifle and not the other way around!" chirped the amused Surgeon, looking at the officer with a long, half-lidded stare.

"Don't be daft Miss Sordelle." The man said seriously, before his expression softened to that cheeky grin once more. "I sleep with a rifle under my woman, I don't need no pillow." He finished, taking a sip from his whiskey and earning a giggle from Adelint.

Faylina wrinkled her nose at the shameless flirting that took place, so subtle and yet so subpar. But then she met the Corporal's gaze. Alin Hayward had his eyes trained on the two laughing blondes and despite his best efforts, Fay's gaze scanned the man, determining in mere seconds how very angry he was. His grip about the bottle was for too tight, his shoulders were squared and his lips pursed.

 _'_ _Oh my Adelint, what have you done.'_ She mused and merely relished in the probability of chaos ensuing, a wide, devious grin spreading across her features.

But another sort of chaos promised to ensue instead as Hawkins, Rodgers and Remmington made their way into the tavern, followed by Mawenge, some suspicious man and the one they had come to know by title, the Boatswain, whose name was still elusive; for now.

"Adelint. Hawk" Faylina said sharply and the blonde groaned, turning herself sharply once she had apologized to the Lieutenant, approaching the rest of the sailors with Fay, grinning wickedly at the comments flung around the establishment by footmen and rangers alike.

Sailor Ladies, Fishmen, Seamen, Blue Ladies, Mermen. All far too amusing for the two women that caught the Captain, his Lieutenant and the Midshipman ordering Brandy, whiskey and mead respectively.

"Ah! Miss Sordelle and Miss Fletcher!" said Remmington, pinching his invisible hat and then rubbing his mutton chops. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Oh I wish I could say the same…" said Adelint with a half-joking grin, but Faylina knew she was far from joking. Her poisonous, albeit sweet, smile made the Captain and the Midshipman laugh, but Fay's eyes were trained on the third man, the Lieutenant. He was not amused, not one bit, that Rodgers fellow. In fact, it was as if he knew precisely what was going on, his icy blue eyes boring into Adelint, his nose wrinkled ever so faintly in clear distaste.

Hawkins took his brandy, interrupting Rodgers and his impassive, distasteful glare upon Adelint, maneuvering himself to her near proximity and smiling warmly. "I hope you are enjoying your evening, Miss Sordelle." He said, raising his drink.

 _'_ _Poor, poor Hawk? You too?'_ Fay hummed to herself, taking a sip from her honeyed rum and impatiently awaiting for Adelint's retort.

But it never came, as the Lieutenant of the Rangers, Thomas Bromhead, came crashing into the counter, knocking off glasses and bottles alike, peppering the floor with crystal shards. A graveyard worthy silence befell on the tavern, all the heads turned to the man that staggered back to his feet, then his assailant. None else than Alin Hayward, who rubbed his knuckles with a shit-eating grin plastered across his gentle, van-dyke defined features.

"Call it payback, you blonde bastard. Round bloody two!" Alin exclaimed and before he had any time to form another word or go into a defensive stance, Bromhead had launched himself to him, his punch sending him sliding across the nearest table, knocking everything in his wake, scaring patrons and spilling drinks.

"You bloody BASTARD!" the Lieutenant yelled at the top of his lungs, then all hell broke loose in the form of a tavern-wide brawl. Fists, kicks, bottles, glasses, shoes, chairs were launched to all directions, creating the most direct form of chaos Fay could have hoped for. She delighted in the chaos of screaming, cursing and hitting, observing everything breaking down around her. She lazily moved to the side, avoiding an airborne footman that crashed against the wall. "Have a nice flight!" she cackled, but her enjoyment was cut short as she was yanked by a pair of strong arms, ducked under the staircase by Remmington and avoiding a projectile bottle in the process, that hit Mawenge instead and knocked him out. She nodded a bewildered thanks to the midshipman, backing away of his personal space and bumping against someone in the process. As the raven haired woman tried to apologize, she was met with a growl and an incoming punch. She ducked skillfully, watching as the footman's fist found Remmington's nose and broke it. She surely hit like a truck for a woman her size.

"Holy SHIT, Summers!" Adelint exclaimed to the female footman, earning a cocky grin and a wink from the butch female.

"Miss Sordelle! You are a woman! You should not applaud violence and especially when committed by ANOTHER WOMAN!" screamed an exasperated Captain, triggering the ticking bomb that was Regira Summers and her short-fused temper. She walked up to the Captain, shoving the lieutenant aside and then pushing Hawkins forcefully, like some bully. "You what mate?" She said simply.

"Miss please do not force me to use violence against your person, I do not hit women." He said, trying to gently move away. "Hit me or I will." She screamed back, blocking the way. "I am afraid I can't do thi-" he tried to say, but Regira yanked the back of his head and forcefully smacked his face on the nearest table, disorienting him. He stumbled away, dizzy, tripping over a chair, hitting the back of his head and fainting.

"You best kiss me Sordelle, for defending your womanly honor!" Regira said, panting. Faylina shook her head amusedly, following a projectile Ranger with her eyes, who ended up collapsing on Regira. Fay and Adelint exchanged looks, shrugging their shoulders and picking up Hawkins, dragging him out and away of the trouble, ducking and dodging various other projectiles, like boots and glasses.

The Captain woke up briefly after Adelint emptied a glass of icy cold water on his face, cussing and apologizing right after. As the Surgeon tended to the crew's wounds outside the establishment, Faylina waited in the distance, observing the surroundings as the brawl had spread to the yard, the streets, even the small green area around the tower. That delightful drop of chaos counted several broken glasses, bottles, chairs, noses and of course, prides.

All of a sudden, a scream of pain echoed through the near vicinity. Adelint paused and looked at Fay meaningfully, the assistant dashing off towards the source of the scream. She was soon joined by the Quartermaster of the Footmen and the Lieutenant of the Rangers, watching the ranger and footman scuffle. Fay was baffled about the scream, until she noticed the dagger lodged on the Ranger's leg. Before she had time to scream, the footman, who was losing the battle, grabbed the handle and dragged the dagger down across his opponent's leg, tearing another roar of pain. Bromhead shoved Fay aside and was soon joined by the Quartermaster and more bystanders, dogpiling on the two, separating with a few punches and kicks to make the point evident. Fay was left staring, her amusement evident, until the soft voice that belonged to her friend sounded; "This is beyond us." She stated calmly, tugging her along with O'Connor on their tail.

 _(I do not own anything recognizable. All is property of Blizzard entertainment.)_


	4. A Surgeon's Hands - Part 2

**A Surgeon's Hands**

 **Part 2**

As it turned out, many were arrested by the City Watch and many more were told to pay heavy fines for the broken propriety. Fay and Adelint were merely enjoying the quiet aftermath of the storm, wandering around the City in order to find a place to settle.

"So the Lieutenant walked in the cabin, his hair in disarray and his cravat all wrong. Turns out he beat the shit out of Summers." Giggled Adelint, far too amused about the otherwise composed Lieutenant's answer to the shove he received. Fay shook her head as they entered the Pig N Whistle, Connor always on their tail. They had barely few moments to settle on an empty table of the crowded tavern, before Summers and her betrothed, a Madame Simons, barged in and interrupting all hope of a silent night. Adelint stood with an eye roll and went to deal with them, giving Fay the opportunity to look over her shoulder, meeting the gaze of Connor, who looked away. She smirked, scanning the man mercilessly with her eyes, as if proving a point to the man, about how out of his league she was. Her pleased, smug expression was wiped clean off her face once she heard her name called by the blonde, beckoning her over and asking her to tend to Summers.

"Apparently the Wardog's outside and he is bathed in his own blood." Adelint explained, smiling awkwardly as if begging for a favour. The Surgeon's mate merely sighed and with a fluid, dismissive wave she shooed her. How could she deny those big, amber eyes, after all? Damn her to all hell.

She swore Adelint would squeal, judging by her expression and that wide smile. She skipped to the bloodied and beaten Lieutenant, smiling awfully pleasantly as she prepared to stitch him up, watching Fay and Connor disappear in the distance, following the two women.

"So Lieutenant…" she drawled amusedly, passing the thread through the needle's eye. "How come they all call you Wardog?" she continued, trying to distract the man from the sting of the anti-septic she applied to his bloodied, battered face.

His cocky grin was spoiled momentarily by a hiss of annoyance, but as always, he had a retort at the tip of his tongue. "Because of the three things I do well, Miss Sordelle."

Adelint begun the process of stitching, quirking a brow in silent question and nodding for him to continue.

"I fight like a damn dog. I bark orders...-"he interrupted himself, hissing as she tugged the torn flesh together. "..- and something not for your ladyship's ears." He finished, grinning faintly as to not disturb her working space that happened to be his face.

"Oh I assure you, my 'ladyship's' ears have heard quite the collection after leaving with men for a while. A ship full of sailors nonetheless." She said, cutting off the excess thread, dabbing the wound with antiseptic.

"With you on board, Miss Sordelle and this pair of—"he paused, looking back up at her face. "…Eyes… I bet there's 'seamen' everywhere." He hinted off, catching Adelint off guard, who started laughing hysterically, shoving him playfully.

After she saw the Lieutenant off, scolding him a bit more about his inappropriate humour that she actually enjoyed, she had this nagging, prickling feeling at the back of her neck that someone was watching her. She chose to ignore it, huffing and going back into the loud tavern, occupying her favourite spot. The table underneath the staircase, usually casting a shadow and provided her much needed shelter and anonymity.

A pair of badly dressed ragamuffins came in shortly after her, settling against the counter and looking around, as if looking for someone they could not find, ordering cheap grog. Adelint sunk further back in the shadows, her eyes trained on them as she listened to the loud couple, obliviously discussing something.

"…I am sure I tell you. She got me in jail and she was with Hawkins in the corner shop, that tailor." He urged his female companion. Adelint narrowed her eyes and realized who he was. That Duster fellow that tried to assault a random man, then she called the guards and they imprisoned him. Her eyes shifted to the woman, her matted, raven hair caught hastily in a ponytail. She was dressed in red rags and dragged some bedraggled flip-flops that served as shoes. Her state was at least sorry and a pang of guilt crossed her features, her image similar to what she used to be a few days prior.

"So, wot ye propose we do, Dusty?" she said, sipping her cheap grog, her voice carrying a distinct Gilnean accent and the hoarseness of tobacco and other substance abuse. "Kill 'im?" she inquired, earning a shrug from Duster.

Adelint tensed and silently rose from her chair, sneaking away unnoticed from their untrained, inebriated ears.

"I dunno, Hawkins." He shrugged and Adelint froze, her head snapping to look over her shoulder. Black hair, evergreen, emerald eyes, Gilnean. _'Oh no.'_ she thought and made for the exit, rushing off to the narrow pathway close to the tavern, waiting patiently until they came out and crossed the street. They were tipsy, to say the least. She chose the right moment, stalking forth and ever so expertly bumping into them, nearly knocking the woman off balance.

"Watch it you wench!" the female Hawkins shrieked at Adelint, the blonde relishing the change in their expression, upon noticing who she was and what she wore.

"Oh no. It's her!" said the female Hawkins, pointing at her in terror, backing away. Duster slowly pulled his seax from its sheathe, but a dagger was flung right next to his neck, gently bobbing up and down as it lodged into the wooden support beam.

"It is I indeed, miss Hawkins." Drawled Adelint, her narrowed eyes enough of a warning for the drunken man, who backed away.

"My name is Jyllian. Let's talk." The female said and Adelint followed her. As they stood in silence, Adelint took the time to study the female counterpart of her Captain closely, seeing how truly similar they were. Ebony hair that glimmered blue in the dim light those damned eyes.

"You have the same eyes as your brother." Adelint thought loudly, her voice silent, but enough to break the silence and the female's confident composure, sending her to an agitated state.

"That's the only thing." She retorted and glared back at the blonde. "What do you want?" she demanded, folding her arms.

"That's a rich tone, Miss Hawkins. Seeing how you openly suggested you kill your own brother. A Captain of the Alliance nonetheless." Adelint drawled, sending the girl in an even more defensive stance. She did not stop there and she twisted the dagger that were her words. "But now that you mention it, stay away of Hawkins. The real, non-embarrassing one, I mean."

Jyllian scowled and clenched her fists her face wrinkling into a grimace. "Why don't you go wear a pretty dress to impress his HIGHNESS instead of bothering me?" Jyllian hissed, and moved closer to Adelint.

The blonde smirked, as she realized that in her mirth and blind, verbal assault to the female Hawkins, she had missed her aggressive stance and the dagger by her side. She was helpless, her rapier far too ineffective from this distance and she had hurled her dagger as a warning to Duster. She had no time, no space and nobody near to save her. She had no choice but take the strike. _'Stupid woman. How do you manage?'_ She inwardly cursed herself, and then Jyllian closed the gap, drew her weapon and went for the hit. Thankfully a light sent dwarf groped her behind, the otherwise precise strike tearing across her ribcage, coaxing a pained gasp from Adelint and a lot of blood.

"Suffer and die well." Jyllian drawled, thinking her mortal strike had been landed. "Can't have a pretty little blonde going back to Will and telling on me." She hissed with venom in her voice, grabbing Duster and legging it.

Adelint cursed and blindly fumbled with her satchel, removing a vial of laudanum, some opium produced painkiller, consuming it and dulling the pain a bit. Just not quite enough. She dragged herself though the streets, her vision blurring dangerously at the blood loss, her knees buckling but she was determined to make it to the harbour. Curses flew at all directions as she left a bloody trail, manoeuvring the narrow streets for a faster way to reach the piers, her haemorrhage not lessening. She felt cold, sweat beaded on her brow and darkness begun edging about her vision before her knees gave in and she collapsed, a few meters before reaching the Defiance. A pained cry escaped her as she rolled over and looked at the starry sky, eyes barely open as she dreamt of rum, warmth and lilies. A chuckle escaped her as the image of the person that haunted her existence flashed before her eyes, realizing that these hands which took her life, were no ordinary hands.

 ** _Those were a surgeon's hands. And then, she surrendered to the darkness._**

 _(I do not own anything recognizable, it is all Blizzard entertainment's property)_


	5. Bad Blood

**_Bad Blood_**

 _"_ _Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood."_

 _(I own nothing recognizable, it is all property of Blizzard entertainment.)_

Hawkins rubbed his eyes and sighed, clutching to his stomach while he lay on his comfortable bed. Sleep was a cruel mistress and would not have him. His gut feeling was not allowing any rest, having this premonition about something horrible happening. Usually it was a good thing to have, when at sea but now, he was on land and still could not calm his sixth sense.

He stood up with a wince, the bruises from the brawl still hurt and he was very angry with Adelint, which only put him in a worse mood. Bloody vixen, daring to coax a sapphist to hit and humiliate him, then laugh at his expense! "Mister O'Hara, I am going for a walk." He called out to the Boatswain.

As he prepared to set out, he saw a figure stumbling in the far distance, towards the pier. With narrowed, hawk-like eyes, he tried to make who the figure was, who that brave sailor was, daring to stumble to HIS ship while inebriated. The walking pattern was at least comical, the person looked like he would collapse any moment now and was obviously dunk out of his brains. Hawkins sighed and made a mental note to scold the man next morning, but the flash of a blonde mane under the dimply lit harbor sent the man into a boiling rage.

"Miss Sordelle you…" he fumed, grumbling under his breath, shoving the hat on top of his head, stomping out of the ship. "I swear to Neptulon's HAIRY ARSE I will transfer you!"

He paused as he saw the figure stumble and crumble into the darkness, now seeing red from the rage. Not only was she without a chaperone. Not only was she a woman getting drunk without a chaperone, she was getting PISS DRUNK, to the point of FAINTING without a chaperone! The nerve!

"Mister O'Hara! Climb down from aloft and help me aid this very drunk woman!" he bellowed, closing the few meters of distance left between him and the woman. Her breath was shallow and he sighed at that, picking her up with a grunt, bridal style, until something wet was felt against his chest. He frowned as the moisture spread in his hands, trickled down his forearms and smeared his entire torso. Panic surged through him as something was very, very wrong and as he walked further and the dim lantern shed light on their figures, he noticed the crimson mess that was she and him alike.

"No. No, no, no! Don't you dare!" he ushered, rushing on board, kicking his cabin's door open and laying her on his bed. He then saw the extent of the damage, meeting with the shocked gaze of his Boatswain. "Barge in her room, find her needles and her threat and whatever else these charlatan women doctors use and STITCH HER WOUND!" he yelled at the poor, unsuspecting man. She was pale and unconscious and none of that was good. "Wake 'er up. Cap'n. Or she might jus' sleep ferev'r." O'Hara said, dashing out to retrieve what was needed.

Hawkins cradled Adelint's torso in his lap, gently shaking and slapping her, until her eyelids slid open, the man looked on the verge of a mental breakdown, but his face lit up once she croaked a single word; "Hawk."

He smiled at her and she responded with a half-smile, eyes fluttering shut again. "No! NO! Miss Sordelle, you best wake up this INSTANT!" he yelled at her desperately, causing her to open her eyes once more. He exhaled softly, realizing yelling was not the best course of action. But what was he meant to do with a woman on his lap? A WOUNDED woman near death on top of that.

"Who did this to you?" he finally uttered, trying to stead his voice and keep a conversation going, one hand making the mistake of fixing his hair and painting his forehead crimson.

"Sister." She gasped, at then O'Hara returned, grabbing her chin and emptying a vial of red liquid in her mouth nonchalantly. He tore off her shirt with his dagger, baring her completely and looking for the wound. Hawkins gawked at her bare chest, blinking and clearing his throat.

"Your own sister did this to you?" he questioned, looking at the woman's amber eyes, their normal glint fading fast. She coughed out a sound that resembled a laughter and a hand raised to his cravat, weakly pulling his head towards her own, the normally loud voice reduced to a whisper. "Hawkins" she said and then hissed in pain as O'Hara begun stitching her wound.

"Yes, miss Sordelle, I am here." He smiled faintly at the sound of his name and she looked at him dully, coughing out once more before curling her hand about the hem of the man's shirt, gasping out another word. "Jyllian."

William's face went blank, his expression dropped and his being drained of any and all emotions but one; Rage. He held the squirming woman in his arms, but his eyes did not look at her, but through her. "..Kill you. You... Danger." She urged, her arched back collapsing on his lap and her bare chest heaving up and down as she fought to remain awake.

Fay and of course her chaperone, O'Connor, barged in that instant. "Captain there's a bloody trail ac-…" she said, her calm face distorting with a mixture of rage and horror, her breath hitching. Her faces was a canvas and all negative emotions passed through there, settling with rage.

"Who did this?!" she demanded, her voice surprisingly low, but cold and menacing like a beast's growl, causing all heads to turn to her. Connor lay a hand on her shoulder, which seemed to calm her down, surprisingly.

"It will be taken care of Miss Fletcher, worry not." Hawkins replied, caressing the tousled hair of his surgeon, his expression blank and his tone professional. She had fallen sleep, her chest heaving up and down as she sweat and grimaced in the troubled slumber.

He looked decades older, the Captain, Fay suddenly realized. There was a certain shadow and grief over his features and the frown he wore made him look borderline intimidating. And she knew very well it was not only because of Adelint's wound. At that though she glanced at it, already slowly healing, possibly curtesy of the discarded vial on the side.

"Least she a good alchemist even when nearly dead!" O'Hara laughed, but nobody found it funny, much to his dismay. "Aye, sorry… Go' it." He said and went away, leaving Hawkins and Fay only in the room.

"Watch over her, Miss Fletcher. I need to deal with her assailant accordingly." He announced, the tone of his voice decisive and quite intimidating.

Fay quirked her brow, following the man's movements as he nonchalantly changed into a new, clean uniform, buttoning up every single golden button and then gently closing the door behind him once he departed. The slightest of smirks spread across the raven haired beauty's lips, gazing at her sleeping friend.

"Oh you beastie. What have you done." She uttered, a silent, cold chuckle rumbling at her throat. She didn't mind, really. Finally her friend was learning how to play the game of men. Or so she hoped, at least. Because if she had any genuine interest in Hawkins… Then Light save her.

Adelint woke with a start from a horrid nightmare, shooting upright, in a seated position and panting. She recognized the place, as her vision slowly stopped blurring – The Captain's cabin. Her entire chest was covered by bandages and she felt where the wound had been, on her ribcage.

Her eyes widened at that and panic surged through her body, making her nauseous. Who had tended to her wound? Who had seen –it-? Her eyes searched around the room for the answer, finding Fay sleeping lightly on the foot of the bed and a figure leaning against the open door's doorframe. She narrowed her eyes, trying to make out who it was in the dim light.

"Mornin' sunshine." The voice that belonged to boatswain drawled, turning his head to look to her direction. He kicked against the wall and approached the woman, a cryptic smile splayed across his features. Adelint squared her jaw and propped an elbow to stop herself from collapsing as her heartbeat rose and her chest heaved for air

"Are you the one who stitched my wound?" she questioned silently, her amber eyes trained on the man. He nodded simply and stopped by the side of the bed, folding his arms and looking down at her with that cryptic smile.

"What is your calling?" she said with a distinct change of accent, making the man's smile turn into a mirthless grin. Her eyes traveled briefly towards Fay who was evidently no longer sleeping, her hand nestled conveniently near her dagger while she kept up the act of the sleeping princess.

"Kimball O'Hara, de'r Surgeon." He said with that heavy accent that brought nauseating memories to Adelint, bringing the suppressed rage to the surface. She narrowed her eyes and grimaced heavily, staring into the man's eyes in search for something she could not quite place.

"Who is Cain O'Hara to you, bosun?" she asked carefully, her fists clenching about the sheets. The man was left staring at her, caught in surprise but he recovered quickly.

"A foster brother and mostly a distant memory. However you've come to know him by his other name, by the look on your face." The man stated again, a pang of guilt crossing his features.

"Grevdir." Adelint hissed, narrowing her eyes and clawing at the sheets, resembling a feline about to pounce its prey. The footsteps that echoed shortly after, interrupted the discussion. They paused outside of the cabin and both O'Hara and Adelint were looking, not sure who to expect. They never found out as the footsteps continued, the sound becoming more distant by the moment, until it all but vanished.

"Well that is a Hawk sleeping out of his nest." Came the drawling, husky tone of Fay, who smirked in satisfaction as the bosun was startled by her sudden 'awakening'. As the raven haired woman stood and stretched, the men grew more and more intimidated, looking between Adelint and Fay, narrowing his eyes, almost in recognition.

Fay's eyes glinted with dangerous amusement as her lips curled into a faint smirk, approaching the man who backed away towards the door, opening it and disappearing in mere moments. Adelint was left baffled, looking at her friend, silently inquiring what that was about.

Her assistant chose to remain silent, folding her arms triumphantly and jerking her head, motioning for Adelint to stand. The blonde narrowed her eyes and threw the blankets off her form, standing up and swaying, her vision blurry as her form threatened to collapse. A hand darted out and stabilized her, helping her dress in clean clothes and walk outside in the sunrise,

The slow walk across the pier was refreshing and therapeutic. The chilly, salty breeze took Adelint's drowsiness away and the faint croaking of seagulls in unison with the soft creaking of the swaying ships made her felt at peace, for once. Fay helped her sit on the edge of the pier, their legs dangling a few centimeters over the peaceful water.

"So, who did this?" Fay asked with a disturbing serenity to her voice, watching her legs dangle over the clean waters. She was met with a groan for an answer and the sound of Adelint fiddling with her satchel, then consuming more of the opium product.

"Hawk's sister." She said finally, grimacing from the disgusting taste of the painkiller and looking at Fay, her amber eyes so very tired and defeated from the eventful night. The fletcher tilted her head to the side, observing Adelint closely, her green eyes holding a peculiar glint about them. It was not rage and it was not anger either – It was something worse. Far calmer, less explosive and far more dangerous. At times like those, Adelint found herself wondering if Faylina had worgen heritage – For she resembled a wolf alright.

"Ah I see. I guess that is why he went to personally deal with it." Fay said with that disturbing serenity once more, but Adelint scrambled to her feet, eyes widened with terror.

"Is he crazy? They want to kill him! I heard them with my own ears, Fay!" she exclaimed, earning a baffled look from her friend.

"And since when do you care, Linty?" she questioned with a smirk, catching the blonde unprepared. She watched her squirm and cough for an answer before finally speaking.

"Well I don't care, per say. I do owe him my life, however." She settled with that as a reply, staring ahead at the horizon as the sun rose slowly. Fay nodded in understanding, deciding to accept this as an answer. She knew well how Adelint was with life debts after all. It was how their friendship had begun all those years ago.

Faylina never really imagined that she would meet her longest standing friend by shooting a Defias in the face, all truth be told. But always had an odd way with screwing her and Adelint over – it was borderline comical, in a very tragic way. They watched each other in silence and Adelint offered her a faint, knowing smile, evidently aware of the thoughts that raced through Fay's head. But more importantly, Adelint knew of the distant, suppressed and most horrible memories that those thoughts carried with them. Those of two lost siblings and the only mercy she could offer them there and then; Death.

"Maybe we've been cursed with Voodoo." Chirped Adelint as cheerfully as her tiredness allowed her, still smiling serenely at Fay. The fletcher studied her friend closely and a faint hint of a genuine smile found its way across her lips. Adelint was an odd person, in all truth; one moment she was ready to cause genocide and the next she said stupid jokes to cheer her brooding friend up. But that's what Adelint always did – Suppressing the right feelings at the right time. And boy did she need to suppress the built up feeling of causing an Azeroth wide genocide of the Hawkins family.

"Ooooh Linty~" sounded a recognizable male voice from behind them, yet they could here two pairs of footsteps approaching. The women turned and Faylina helped Adelint stand, only to watch the blonde rush into another blonde man's arms, hugging him tightly. The hatted man next to him hummed in amusement, tipping the straw hat in a greeting as he chewed on his tobacco idly.

"Now what are the two most important women in my life doing all alone, in this uniform, in the harbor?" The blonde man asked calmly, resting his arms around Adelint's much smaller frame, yet his blue eyes and the question were directed to Fay.

"Some Jyllian Hawkins stabbed your precious sister here, Hephaistos." Said the fletcher seriously and the man's pleasant face darkened as he grabbed Adelint by the shoulders and pushed her away, observing her closely. A snicker escaped from the man in the hat, who tutted shook his head.  
"Ah miss Aaaadelint! How veeery naughty!" he said in a flamboyant, playful tone, a wicked grin visible underneath the shade of his hat.

Adelint scowled and knocked the hat off his head, allowing his golden locks to unfurl and frame his face, the pair of fern green eyes set on her in a mischievous manner. "Shut up, you toad Reynald." She replied moodily and he offered her a mock salute, then a bow, or an excuse to pick up his hat and wear it again.

"Where is this woman, Fay?" Adelint's brother, Hephaistos, spoke, his gaze turning meaningfully towards the ship.

"I don't know. Yet." Fay said in a nonchalant manner, meeting Hephaistos eyes with her own, sharing a long, knowing look that had the man grinning wolfishly and the one referred to as Reynald cackling hysterically. Oh someone had pissed off the fletcher and they would pay dearly.

"Miss Sordelle?" came a hoarse, bass voice from behind all of them, the heavy footsteps making the planks of the pier groan. "Who is this man hugging and who...? Is that one?" said the Captain, elevating a bushy brow.

"That Captain, is my brother. And this is Reynald. They are here to sign up for His Majesty's Navy." Said Adelint with a confident tone, Hephaistos and Reynald at loss for words.

"Indeed so, gentlemen?" asked Hawkins, seeing the hesitance in their faces. The men looked at each other, then at the frowning women, taking the hint – or more like, the warning.

"Aye yes, Captain, Sir! We are!" said Hephaistos, saluting sloppily, then elbowing Reynald in the ribs.

"Oh what? OH! Yes, yes! Totally like the navy and… Stuff." He said, mocking a salute and nearly knocking his own hat off again.

Hawkins grumbled and looked at Adelint, his stern gaze holding hints of guilt, for reasons unknown. He beckoned the men on board and the two women smirked with glee.

"Good timing gentlemen, as we are setting sail on the morrow, after the training with your midshipman!" exclaimed Hawkins, as he and the two men vanished in the main hall, ready to do the necessary paperwork.

"So you are missus Adelint's brother?" Hawkins said, sitting himself on the table and pulling a parchment, proceeding to dip the quill in the inkpot and write down some sort of contract.

"The one and only." Said Hephaistos, beaming the man a smile, while he was being scrutinized.

"You don't look very alike, save for the attitude, to be frank with you." Admitted Hawkins, staring down sternly at the man.

Truth be told, Hephaistos' light brown, edging blonde, hair had a far different pigment to that of Adelint's. His eyes were sky blue, in contrast with the bright amber of his sister and she was tones paler than he. Yet their attitudes were so very similar, so very fluid and in harmony that hinted that these people have been together for years and years.

"Yes, I got my father's good looks and my mother's eyes, while she, the younger one, was left with the scraps and the rotten attitude!" joked Hephaistos, clearing his throat at the glare he received from the offended-looking Captain. "Ahem, well. We hold different traits from our parents who were two very different people, Captain. North and south met, and we were born." He continued in a much more sincere and calm tone.

With a few curt remarks and questions, the two men signed and donned their uniforms, increasing the crew counter, and Adelint's friend circle on it, by two. While the jolly procedure took place, a pair of weather-beaten, light grey eyes watched them from the dark corner.

Cold, cruel and calculating, the sea veteran's eyes raked across the forms of Adelint and Faylina, in faint recognition that he could just not place. His calloused fingers toyed with the numerous, golden and gem encrusted rings as he muttered silently to himself, brooding in the shadows that seemed like a poetically fitting environment for the grey-haired seadog.

"Ah Mister Thatcher, no need to skulk in the shadows!" Hawkins chuckled amusedly, beckoning the man over.

The seadog muttered hushedly and stumbled across the floorboards, dragging himself forth into the dim light and offering a honeyed, overly sweet smile to Hawkins, followed by a deep, theatrical bow.  
"Arh, Captain, m'Cap'n! I was just mer'ly not wishing to interrupt!" came the distinctly, tobacco-defined hoarseness and that cutting Tirassian accent. He wore a uniform like all the rest, clean and ironed out, but his leg was busted heavily, Adelint noted with a quick look. It looked painful and definitely not very practical.

"Bill Thatcher, at yer service. Madams." He winked, his eyes trained on Adelint's amber ones for a peculiar reason. She narrowed hers and peered at him, yet unlike most, those pale grey eyes revealed nothing about the man's character. Like a blank sheet, they had no information to offer.

"Good to meet you, mister Thatcher." Came Fay's honeyed tone, as she raised her hand daintily towards the theatrical, old man. He took it gladly and kissed her knuckles, his gem encrusted, golden rings glimmering in the candlelight. "That leg of yours looks painful, whatever happened?" Fay enquired sweetly once more, resting her hand on her collarbone, fainting a pout.

"Arh! Missus Fletcher was it? Arh, what cannae say! Some foul, dastardly drunken blaggard had me leg busted! Bad blood, I tell ye, missus Fletcher! Bad Blood." He exclaimed, his tone overly dramatic, Adelint noted.

But something glimmered in those mysterious, blank and unreadable eyes of his as he mentioned Bad Blood.

 ** _And for just a moment there, Adelint wondered if that cheerful, old and joyful man could ever have bad blood with anyone_**.


	6. Lambs to the Slaughter

_(Authors Note: Every single character depicted has been an actual character on the EU RP Server Argent Dawn. I am merely depicting IC interactions and do not wish to insult any culture group or individuals. If you find sexism, or comical racial stereotypes offensive, please do not read any further, but thank you dearly for the support so far. As of now the rating has been upped to M for what will follow; Violence and suggestive situations.)_

Lambs to the Slaughter

" _ **A man in love can be used as a weapon and a shield both, dear child."**_

The sound of the bells tore Adelint off her drunken slumber, reminding her starkly how bad of a decision that rum bottle was last night. A sharp pain shot through her head and she felt nauseous as the room started to spin. She tried to get up and knocked her head on the wooden ceiling, dropping helplessly back to the excuse of a mattress in her cabin. A whimper escaped her and she curled up, hugging her own self as the freshly inflicted and stitched wound hurt every time she breathed. She had tried her best – Alcohol, laudanum, peacebloom. Anything more would be bordering substance abuse, truly. Not that the thought did not cross her mind, in all honesty. The pain was too much and the solution so very easy, but she had still not shed the last layers of her sanity.

A knock startled her and her form jolted, slowly and carefully sitting up. She ran a hand through her tangled, blonde hair realizing just how high of a fever she had and how much she was sweating. A lazy hand pulled a sheet and covered her half naked frame before she called out. "Yes? Who is this?"

Her voice was gravelly and made evident how bad and fitful her drunken sleep was. There were moments of silence and she quirked a brow, wondering if the person had already left. With a groan and a disgruntled grunt, she stumbled to the door, abandoning the sheet on her bed and sliding the door open with all her strength. She narrowed her eyes and looked around, before noticing the tray with food and water left by her door. Gavin, that odd bastard.

She picked it up and reminded herself to thank the Galley Chief later. However Adelint could not help but wonder, what had happened to cause such a change of attitudes to the cringe worthy, ill-behaved individual. The growling of her stomach however decided for her and she discarded the thoughts, hungrily consuming her food, pausing to hiss out a curse at the pain.

Hawkins stormed out of the Admiralty, his sturdy footsteps echoing in the empty, marble paved hall. His bushy brows were joined in an angered and frustrated frown, his hands already toying with a cigar and his box of matches. That bloody woman would be the death of him - that damned Admiral. It still baffled him how she even qualified, how she was interested, how she WANTED this position willingly. A woman truly out of her mind, he thought.

He was greeted by the saluting of his Lieutenant and his Midshipman, who shared a knowing look upon noticing the shadow cast over his eyes.. In fact, there has not been a single time that Christopher or Damian remember him coming out of the Admiralty and being at least in a neutral mood. The Captain greeted his officers, two fingers moving hastily to his temple as he sauntered off, steps heavy against the cobble, causing Remmington to run on occasion in order to catch up with him and Rodgers.

"That damned woman! How dare she?! It is one thing to make professional suggestions and one other to DEMAND to have it her way. Curse her to all hells and back I say, telling me how to run my ship! That youngling, that inexperience little butterfly this… Hngnggh." Hawkins raged on, moving his hand on occasion to accentuate his point on how very enraged he was. Rodgers was impassive as ever, his icy blue eyes trained forth, nodding where appropriate and adding a few sentences with neutral and ambivalent meaning, unclear if he was agreeing or disagreeing with the Captain. It seemed as though this was a usual thing, a common interaction between Lieutenant and Captain. Remmington was left looking between the two, shrugging his shoulders when the Captain remembered of his existence, or rubbing his mutton chops and fabricating a reply when absolutely necessary.

In truth, they all knew the Admiral, despite her ill temper and prejudice against Hawkins was very skilled, very responsible and anything but inexperienced. Yet she was also a woman that had struggled more than Hawkins would ever dream of to get her position. And if there was one thing she despised in this life and the next, was people like Hawkins, clipping the wings of women that loved the sea and wished to serve his Majesty's Navy.

"Forgive me for asking, Captain, but whatever have you done to incur her wrath to such degree? Is this a past vendetta of sorts, or was it this particular interaction that spiralled out of control? I have never once heard of the Admiral losing her temper." Remmington finally said, smiling faintly while rubbing his mutton chops in thought, once more.

Hawkins paused and looked at Remmington quizzically, before shrugging his shoulders and replying in a casual manner. "Well she told me I have to start adding women to my crew and I may have told her that women should stick to what they do best, mother children and raise them."

Remmington blinked, awestruck and slightly appalled, struggling with keeping a neutral expression. He looked to Rodgers' direction, but found little support, as the man's impassive, icy stare was directed forth. Either he was not listening, was not interested, or has given up trying, Remmington determined.

"…Well okay, I may have also implied she should fall overboard and be abandoned in the depths of the ocean." Hawkins added, a bit more silently, a nervous, almost childishly mischievous smile splayed across his face. Remmington could not help but laugh, the image of the Admiral's face when she heard that must have been priceless. What a man Hawkins was; stubborn, behind in times, but nobody could question his bravery – Or foolishness in this case.

Adelint jolted, her head shooting up as she awoke from some fitful slumber, realizing that she had fallen asleep on the small desk while filling in the various forms. She hissed as the pain in her ribs greeted her once she breathed, struggling to stretch her aching back. Thrice-cursed be that doddering, tar-bred fiend of a woman. Her eyes wandered off to the bottles of the opium product, narrowing as the numbing of pain it offered was so very endearing. A distant memory of the opium hungry eyes shook her up entirely and she shot up, ignoring the pain and sauntering off and away of her room. She was cursing silently, glaring over her shoulder at the direction of the Captain's cabin, until she smashed into something hard, the air knocked out of her lungs, staggering back and nearly toppling over.

A strong arm darted out and caught her shoulder, stabilizing her with ease. Adelint shook her head and looked forth, noticing only a broad chest in her field of vision. Her gaze travelled upwards, in search for the man's face, only to be met with a thick beard, morphed into what would look like a smile. The man was a giant, compared to her wiry form. Thick of limb, broad chested and nearly two meters tall, the dark-skinned man wore the uniform of the navy, a co-worker of hers without doubt. He released the grip he had on her, his round, dark eyes looking at her with an odd tranquillity as he adjusted his turban, which was nearly knocked off his head.

"Ah, watch out, effendi!" said a deep, rumbling, yet surprisingly gentle voice, making the otherwise intimidating man look like the friendliest man on board this vessel. He took a step back and eyes the woman, seeming confused momentarily as he noticed her state of dress, which was severely lacking.

"That is weird way you choose to dress, Sayeeda!" exclaimed the man, comically baffled, his eyes trained on her pants as if they were offending him somehow. He looked back at her as she cleared her throat and regained her composure.

"Pardon me, Sir. It appears my mind was otherwise occupied and I bumped into you. Apologies again uh... Mister?" she trailed off, hinting after his name. Adelint was even more baffled when he barked out a laughter, adjusting the straps that held a massive shield and an equally massive sword on his back.

"It is okay, Sayeeda. You are woman, smaller body and smaller mind!" he exclaimed, bowing deeply before continuing. "I am Raq'esh Ak 'Neera, effendi, I live to serve."

Adelint took a moment to observe the man, determining he was certainly not from around here. And that meant not this continent. He was either a seed of Tanari men or a nomad of Uldum- that much was clear from his attire after all. And she had a nagging impression he was among the Captain's favourites, if his attitude of 'smaller body, smaller mind' against women was anything to go by. She nodded awkwardly and decided to introduce herself at least, instead of awkwardly staring at him.

"I am Adelint Sordelle, I am the Ship's Surgeon." She kept it short, edging curt, making a flimsy curtsy, earning an amused grin by the man.

"Ah! Woman is nurse, how very fitting, Ha-ha-ha!" he laughed amusedly again, reminding Adelint exactly why she would, one day, go on a murderous rampage aboard this vessel. "I better hope other, pretty woman I saw is cook! I would buy for camel, but she had no man around to haggle with, can you believe this?" he continued.

Adelint was on the verge of having some form of aneurysm and she could not find it in her to be rude to the man. The way his eyes glinted with sincerity and how very happy he was, was almost infectious and would probably give her ten minutes of guilt that were truly not worth it. So she chose silence this time, dismissing it with a curt smile.

"Ah! Mister Neera, I see you already introduced yourself to Miss Sordelle!" came the cheerful, accented voice of Remmington, who offered a brief, nautical salute. Adelint was never more relieved to see the Midshipman, offering him a grateful smile and saluting right back at him, inwardly giggling upon noticing how his mutton chops look when he smiled.

"AH! Friend Remmington!" exclaimed the man she now dubbed as 'Neera' since his full name was a damned mouthful anyway. "Yes, effendi, I met with the nurse woman! Does she have man on board?" he asked curiously, tilting his head to the side and catching the poor midshipman unprepared.

"Oh ah… Yes, of course she has her brother on board!" Remmington said, casting a warning look towards Adelint and only earning an ungrateful scowl in return. However Neera was oblivious to this exchange and seemed far too pleased with the situation he was offered.

"Ah good, good nurse woman, for a moment I was worried you too were like the other woman!" he continued, winding the Surgeon even further, until she curtly, bordering rudely, excused herself and stomped off the ship.

She wandered with renewed fervour around the harbour, yet her state had her worn out and tired pretty fast, until she gave up and took a sit on one of the piers, taking off her boots and indulging her feet with the cold, renewing sea water. She leaned back against her elbows, allowing her head to drop backwards and her eyes to close, as the afternoon sunlight shone on her pale skin, gifting it some colour, perhaps.

"..NO Hephaistos, I truly do not see the reason why you are so UPSET!" the distinct, frustrated voice of Fay was suddenly in earshot, followed by an exasperated sigh from what was, most likely, her brother.

"Okay! Okay. I am sorry, I know why you withheld the information from the Captain, I understand it, just PLEASE make sure to let me know beforehand, lest you want me to blow your cover, okay?" came the calm, calculated voice of the other Sordelle. "We are married for Light's sake, some foresight wouldn't be much to ask!"

Adelint rolled her closed eyes and grunted some inappropriate curse. They were at it again, as always, for the past year. They acted like an old married couple, her brother and she, even though they were barely married four years in total. If Adelint considered marriage a joke before, this was only helping her convictions. She could not blame her brother for his frustration when his wife was barely talking of her doings, but she could not blame her friend either, after what had happened to her.

Fay was not always like that, she recalled with a faint smile. She remembered when she smiled, not out of malice, but those genuine smiles. When she also laughed, not out of cruelty, but out of enjoyment; enjoyment of life. Yet all these seemed so far after that fateful night, when a job went south and her two other siblings were caught.

She recalled how she was shaken when she returned to their small house in Ironforge, how she looked like a scared, cornered and wounded animal, ready to collapse and bite at the same time.

Faylina Wagner had watched her two older siblings die in a single night, one by cyanide and the other one… Heptad, well. She had shot him herself so he would not be tormented, tortured and crippled afterwards. She had spared her siblings mercy and watched them fade in front of her eyes. Adelint knew, that along with them, a part of Fay also died that night – The careless, happy, young one, leaving a gap that could only be filled by hatred, rage and endless bloodlust.

Adelint frowned and stood up with a wince, deciding to finally act on the endless and pointless bickering going on. She strode off and barged into their conversation unannounced. They paused and she took in their stances, their body language saying what words would never express well enough.

Faylina had her arms crossed, as if protecting herself from the endless flow of accusation flying out of her dear brother's mouth, while he had paused with his hands raised before his chest, as if begging her to say something, show something – Anything. Adelint took long moments, gifting them both with that impassive, dull and ever judgemental stare of hers before speaking in a similarly dull tone.

"Are you also going back to your teenage years now? Jealous of the Captain and his clown crew acting like children and you decided to follow suit?" she sneered, her words waking them up from their loathing trance like a bucket of cold water. Fay huffed and looked to the opposite direction while Hephaistos merely sighed and shook his head, muttering an apology. It was that simple, truly - If only they could see it too.

Hawkins rubbed his eyes as he woke up from a much needed afternoon nap, the only remedy to the vile headache that infernal woman who wore the Admiral's Hat gave him – Every single time. He got up swiftly and dressed himself in his uniform with unparalleled speed, walking towards his cabinet and taking out his prized bottle of brandy, indulging himself with a glass of it, his hawkish eyes gazing about the harbour from his windows.

He caught the sight of her then, Adelint; sitting on the furthest pier's edge, her trousers lifted so she could freely wet her feet with the salty harbour's waters. He tilted his head to the side, observing how different she looked when she was alone, when she those annoying walls of hers were down. Her stance was relaxed, basking into the dimming, fleeting sunlight that reflected off her blonde locks, like some cat catching the sun's rays.

He also watched with peaked curiosity as she abruptly tensed in that position, before eventually standing up and adopting that tight way she walked and behaved again, stomping off behind a few stacked crates, out of view. Something must have startled her, as she had forgotten her boots there, he noted. That woman was such an oddity to him, full of contradictions that baffled him to no end. With a shrug of his shoulders he merely brushed off the tingling feeling of curiosity, turning his emerald eyes to his latest orders and the list of crewmen aboard. It would be a difficult first journey with so many inexperienced people on board and without a well-versed carpenter. They had to learn how to use cannons and how to beat to Quarters in a manner of days, before immediately jumping into action against, what looked like, vicious, merciless pirates.

He snarled as his eyes scanned across the orders once more. A vicious ship of blaggards had allegedly spread terror and mayhem across Surwich's coast, killing and sinking merchant ship after merchant ship, leaving no survivors behind, apart from the few souls that somehow magically escaped. But even those could be counted on the fingers of two hands. What manner of beast a man must be to commit such heinous acts, he wondered, reading the report for the second time, more carefully and without the wretched Banshee of an Admiral screeching at him. He momentarily pondered if she was a distant relative of Sylvanas, but shook his head and went on with the report.

Despite how bloody and depressing the report looked, it was nothing out of the ordinary for pirate standards. But something shook Hawkins when he read those final lines; ' _Sightings of a female appearing on deck, by the vicious Captain's side before the attack ensued. Believed to be the one orchestrating the strikes to some degree. Did not look human.'_

Suddenly everything made sense to him; it all clicked to place. How the scene was so very bloody and how the Pirate Captain was killing unarmed men and women, then sinking their precious merchant ships instead of taking them as prizes. Yes, it was to appease his vicious mistresses' tastes, no doubts – To seem cruel and endearing to his pirate Princess.

After all, he knew fully well how women and men danced this interpersonal relationship dance. In his head, and in his world, what women lacked in strength had in wits- Wits they employed to charm men and steal their hearts, then whisper commands to their ears at night.

 _ **Because he knew how women broke men, how their love was so toxic that they lost themselves to some siren's call.**_

 _(I own nothing recognizable, it is Blizzard's property.)_


	7. Strange Colour Blue

**Strange Colour Blue**

" _The sea is a cruel mistress, son. You will learn to love and hate her like a wife."_

"Beat to Quaaarters!" exclaimed the Midshipman as the various sailors rushed and scurried about positions. Adelint and Fay swiped the tabled clean and arranged the array of surgical tools, announcing they were ready. They had done this exercise at least four times and frankly, it was getting dull.

"Mister Remmington!" came the booming voice of the Captain from atop his proud throne, the poopdeck. "You were meant to do this in FIVE minutes!" he said in a scolding manner, his thick brows furrowing, causing the midshipman to lower his head. "Yet you did it in 4.30!" Hawkins smiled proudly, earning the cheers of the entire crew that assaulted the Midshipman with encouraging claps on the back.

"Extra ration of grog for everyone!" Hawkins announced, descending from the poopdeck, followed closely by his eerily and stoically silent Lieutenant. "MY tea, mister Gavin" announced Hawkins as he tucked his hat under his arm, striding across the maindeck and towards his cabin, looking about proudly. His smile was replaced by a wrinkled nose and a sour expression when he noticed the two females in the corner. A sight he was yet to get accustomed to and would annoy him for a while, he wagered.

His hawkish, scrutinizing eyes landed on her, the rowdy blonde that had turned his precious world upside down in a single day. He watched the way she smiled when talking to his crew, how she beamed when she spoke to her brother or Fay, how she flippantly shoved the stray locks of hay out of her amber eyes. William must have been staring for a while, as he noticed Gavin in front of him, calling his name for what was the third time in a row, a steaming cup of tea presented to him, followed by the baffled gaze of his Lieutenant.

"Your tea, Captain." Said the bald man, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. Hawkins merely nodded and took the cup, sauntering off to his cabin and sparing no more glances to Adelint's direction.

"Light almighty, if looks could kill…" Adelint uttered and raised her brows, snickering fiendishly. Fay and Hephaistos regarded her with a low lidded, borderline mocking gaze. Adelint furrowed her brows, unaware what the conveyed message was.

"What?" she demanded, interrupted by the searing pain in her ribcage, signalling the end of the painkiller's effect. She cursed loudly, her breath hitching as she lurched away of the merry main hall, barging in her cabin and sitting on her bunk, curling and hissing from the intense pain. Bright amber eyes travelled down to the bottles of laudanum and it once more looked ever tempting as the pain amplified with every passing heartbeat.

"Captain! The longboats with the target masts are at the ready!" chirped Remmington with a crisp salute and Hawkins nodded, noting some things down his Captain's Log while toking his cigar. "Very good mister Remmington, carry on with the exercise!" he finished, dropping the quill and squeezing the cigar in the ashtray, following his Midshipman to the Quarterdeck.

BROOOOOAAAA!

The cabin shook as the cannons were fired, the planks of the Defiance moaning in protest; yet she did not care. The bottle of laudanum lay empty, some remaining droplets of the murky liquid being absorbed by the wooden floor. The world begun spinning soon, her senses dulling and her vision blurring as the opium coursed through her veins.

Blonde eyelashes fluttered and a sheepish grin made way to her lips as she slumped against the wall of her small cabin, enjoying the moments of drugged, painless peace.

"FIRE!" sounded dully from above her, followed by the roaring of the cannons that shook the Defiance once more. She did not even flinch at the loud noise anymore, she was in a happy place, her pain in the past and her present a dull reality. Adelint closed her eyes and saw the flutter of crimson curls, the scent of lilies invading her nostrils as she sunk further in the abyss. Those gentle green eyes were looking at her with determination and then she was gone; deep into the endless abyss that was her opium-induced, half-slumber.

"Good work gentlemen!" said Remmington, dipping his chin briefly as he waltzed across the cannon crews that were cleaning their tools, hands locked behind his back. "An extra ration of rum for Mister Wolf and mister Sordelle for excellent performance!" The midshipman smiled briefly, climbing the stairs and saluting his Captain and Lieutenant upon the poopdeck.

Hawkins smiled proudly at his young Midshipman, saluting back at him and sauntering off below deck with Rodgers following suit, merely offering a curt nod of acknowledgement to Remmington, his steely gaze trained forth and lacking every and all emotion.

The men were cheerful below deck, cursing loudly at Gavin and his horrific cooking, which was always a good sign, really. Whoever was defeated enough to accept that rubbery, green excuse of mushed potatoes and the badly cooked meat, was truly a lost cause. Hawkins, Rodgers and Remmington tucked their hats under their arms, making way to the Captain's Cabin, where the customary brandy would take place, marking their day's success.

"Good work this afternoon mister Remmington. You have a long career ahead of you!" said the Captain once the cabin door was shut, pouring three glasses of Brandy. Remmington was positively beaming at the compliment from his superior, while Damian remained neutral, inexpressive and silent, as ever. The midshipman had wondered many times if the man had been lobotomized by accident, but he seemed to perform all other duties just fine…

A loud thump interrupted the customary celebrations and usual banter the officers had in the cabin, everyone's head, even Rodgers', turned to the left, towards the surgeon's cabin, before the two other officers looked quizzically at the Captain. Hawkins' eyes narrowed, nearly throwing sparks towards the source of the noise as he pointedly put his glass down and dismissed his officers, marching out with them and barging into the cabin of the one that dared disturb his peace.

Yet as he slid the door open and stepped in with all intention to bellow something horrible, he found his breath and words caught in his throat when he saw his surgeon in that state. Drugged beyond consciousness, crumpled to a heap of misery on the floor, she clutched onto the aching, stitched wound, eyes fixated on him; wild and afraid. She looked like a wounded animal in this primal, pathetic state and every intention William had of reprimanding her had all but vanished. Instead he helped her to her feet, then before she had time to react, picked her up like the princess bride, storming out of her cabin and back into his quarters they went; and it did not go unnoticed by the crew, nor the cook that locked his gaze on how limp Adelint was.

The good Captain tried lowering the woman on his bed, frowning at her poor state, but then the delirium started and she was kicking and thrashing, cursing in a slurred manner. She yelled something along the lines of "not getting stabbed by another Hawkins" but in the state she was in, holding her down was easy enough. He ran a hand over his hair, before sighing and immobilizing her, glaring directly into those fiery, amber pools with his hawkish eyes. "Miss Sordelle, if I see so much as one LIMB of you moving out of this bed, I will chop it off. Do we have an understanding?" he uttered, the frustration seeping into his tone while he threatened Adelint, who seemed to understand, for she only nodded and lay still, like a scolded child.

William shook his head and grimaced in distaste, thrice-cursing ever accepting women on board – They were all troublesome and it was becoming apparent more and more. He sauntered close to the door, pushing it shut with a gentle shove after looking out briefly, green eyes pausing momentarily as he thought he caught glimpse of someone staring back, but he was far too tired to care.

Gavin stared at the door of the Captain's Quarters close, grimacing with malice and distaste. He had heard her scream and he had heard his reply. He spat in a mug and begun 'cleaning' it with a rag, eyes still trained on the door hatefully. Gavin was a scumbag, he had that much self-awareness, but he was not a scumbag enough to force a woman to his bed; and Light help him if he did not make sure the Captain knew this too.

The trip to the port of debauchery, drugs and spiked alcohol took a few days and William was glad they were finally throwing anchor and deploying the boats. He had missed a good night's sleep on a soft bed, seeing how miss Sordelle and her damned wound were occupying his and he had to make do with a chair. But that was not the only reason he awaited the Bay's port with such glee; they did have the most experienced and pretty courtesans there too. Thoughts like those made him feel twenty again and he adjusted his cravat with a coy, predatorily grin.

"Looking forward to visit the ladies, Captain Hawkins?" came the heavy, Alteraci accent from his bed, Adelint sitting on its edge, legs and arms crossed as she grinned cheekily. At least she had recovered from her wounds, which was good; but that attitude of hers was back and it was not very good. He blinked and stared at her, dumbfounded for a few long moments as green eyes scanned her figure, how her body language communicated she was very uncomfortable, but her eyes challenged him as per.

"Gawking at a lady like this, is not very polite, Captain." Came the hoarse voice again and that coy smirk he wished he could wipe off her features. But he was William Hawkins and Light damn him, if he could not handle a cheeky woman. He cleared his throat and perked a brow, looking at her in the most derogatory manner he could muster;

"Well indeed it is not, miss Sordelle. But it is a good thing you are nothing close to a lady, no?" he uttered in a honeyed tone, tongue dripping poison as it were. That was all it took, frankly, Adelint's expression distorted to a scowl and she stormed off his cabin with heavy steps, leaving the door ajar and the Hawk of a Captain satisfied with himself.

"And do close the door behind you miss Sordelle! Unless you were not taught that either!" he called out and huffed in amusement and satisfaction, giving one last glace to his reflection on the mirror and then sauntering off, surfacing to the Quarterdeck.

The abundance of sailors saluted their Captain as he stood on the Poopdeck, joining his hands behind his back and announcing to them;

"Men, you shall be given twenty four hours to do as you please in the port." A series of cheers erupted, to which the Captain smiled. It was so easy to keep men pleased. "You are advised NOT to spend your entire pay on booze and women, for we will be coming back this way, on our way back." He finished and everyone laughed – Everyone but Gavin and Adelint. "Lower the boats and row to the port." He finally ordered and the arduous process of lowering boats and rowing ashore begun. He would be in the port before he knew it, with brandy, cigars and women aplenty, all at his disposal. His musing of happy thoughts was interrupted by the feeling that someone was staring at him, but when he turned, he only saw a flutter of dirty blonde locks, as the surgeon was lowered to a boat. Her distress only made him even more amused, for he had found the button he would press every time she was unbearable – But he spent no more time thinking about a rowdy woman that behaved like a sailor. His darling Lucy awaited him at the port, after all; and it would be a feisty return he'd make to her arms.

Booty bay's only tavern was filled to the brim, as it was expected. Goblins, elves, orcs, trolls, taurens and then there was them, clad in their uniforms of the Royal Navy, wandering about and standing out like sore thumbs. Adelint's amber eyes wandered about as she searched for an empty table. Yet all she found was unfamiliar and unfriendly faces. Fay moved to her side and joined in her search, before they gave up, placed their order and disappeared off to a shady corner table as they always did. Amber and green eyes stared and scrutinized the patrons, until they landed on the boatswain's back; this Kimball O'Hara's back.

Adelint's position shifted and she narrowed her feline shaped eyes, meeting the knowing gaze of her partner in crime. With a silent nod of confirmation, they both already had set their plan in motion. Nobody could know – Nobody could know and remain alive at least. Fay silently stood, chair creaking as she swaggered towards the man with heavy footsteps, hips swaying salaciously with every step and every click of her boots against the wooden floor. She approached the bar's counter, propping an elbow against it and shifting her body in a very inviting manner, free hand propped on her hips. Then came her sultry voice;

"So bosun – Are you going to buy your surgeon's mate a drink?" she questioned, her hand moving from her hip, fingers playing with her rich, ebony curls. The boatswain was like a moth that saw a burning fay-flame. His eyes widened a bit and a wry grin spread across his features as he raked her form with his eyes, tongue darting across the salt-crusted bottom lip of his. He was flying his pretty moth wings directly to the flame that Fay was – And much like fire did, she would give him a slow and agonizing death.

Adelint merely observed from afar, a satisfied, cruel smirk spreading across her thin lips as she watched her friend toy with her prey, like a predator would with a mouse. Her vision was blocked when Gavin sat across of her on the table, slapping two mugs of ale on the old oaken furniture. He wordlessly shoved one towards Adelint, drinking from his own mug. Unlike Fay, Adelint was a horrible people's person – She had no skills in concealing her feelings whatsoever and the distaste spread across her features like moss on a rock.

"What is it Gavin?" she inquired, not even touching the mug of ale, but crossing her arms and legs both, looking at the man beneath half-lidded eyes.

"Och come on Addie! Just drink, damn your eyes, I am tryna be nice, cut the man some slack ey?" Gavin said, a lopsided, sordid grin cutting across his features, giving him this constant, disturbing aura he always carried about him.

She picked up the mug and downed the ale halfway, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to see above Gavin's shoulder at what Fay was doing, but the bald cook intercepted and grabbed her hand. She recoiled in disgust, eyes wide like saucers, silently inquiring what the hells he was doing.

"Look, Addie. We got off on the wrong foot eh? I thought you were another wench when you enlisted, y'know? No hard feelings eh?" he joked, taking a gulp from the cheap ale in his mug. Adelint inwardly sighed and rolled her eyes, giving up on her quest of seeing what Fay was doing, concentrating on the greying cook before her.

"Ah is that so? And what changed your mind on my ethics, Gavin? My pretty eyes?" she said with sarcasm dripping freely from her tongue, earning a coarse laughter from the cook.

"Yer eyes ain't pretty lass, sorry t'break it to you, but you look like a bloody mess, if I am honest." He stated, still half-laughing, but Adelint struggled to find the hilarity. While she was quite pale and admittedly her black circles did her no justice – Perhaps she didn't possess the baby blue, or verdant green eyes others did but… Oh who was she kidding, she looked like a right mess. She could barely even remember the last time she had gotten proper sleep without being drunk out of her mind. ' _Good thing you are nothing like a lady, miss Sordelle.'_ It reverberated through her mind, again and again, as she sunk further into the abyss.

"Arh yer doing the thing again!" Gavin exclaimed, waking her up from the self-loathing trance. "The overthinking thing!" he continues, chugging down what remained from his ale. "Dun' do it girl. Yer might not be like your friend there charmin' the bosun, but you have a spirit eh?" he reassured her, but she merely stared at him blankly, hand tightening about her mug.

"Now tell ol' Gavin, what happened in the Captain's Cabin? Did tha' bastard touch ye?" he asked, his voice lowering and his mood darkening considerably. Adelint blinked and looked at the cook, bewildered.

"What? No, are you crazy?!" she nigh screamed, standing up and making a few heads turn her way.

"Calm down lass, I saw you were drugged outta this world and you were kicking and shrieking for him not to touch ye; I am just makin' sure." Gavin said through his teeth, motioning for her to sit down; surprisingly, she indeed did.

"What's with the sudden interest Gavin? What's with the meals out of my room, why do you even give a crap all of a sudden, what do you want?" Adelint asked, narrowing her eyes and staring at the man warily. Her right hand was still clasping onto her mug, but the left one was hovering over a dagger she always carried with her after the Jyllian incident.

Gavin paused and pursed his lips, leaning closer and lowering his voice, face barely lit from the candle, making him look like a being out of nightmares.

"Ah know what ye did in your previous ship, 'Addie'. Lil' bird called Butch told me, how you chased pirates and gutted 'em one after the other. You ain't no surgeon girl, you are a professional butcher who knows how to cook elixirs, poisons and stitch where she must in order not tae die. Not that I complain, better than an actual butcher or barber for a surgeon." He hissed, his tone nigh threatening, sending chills down Adelint's spine. She glared at him, eyes narrowed to slits as she sneered and caught glimpse of Fay staring directly at them, as if she had sensed the danger.

"Get out of my face Gavin, or some documents about pirates and yourself may surface accidentally." Adelint finally stated, now that she knew she had backup. But her iron resolve broke when Gavin burst into a hysterical, coarse laughter.

"Bahahaha! Gods damn your eyes girl, you are truly a spirited mare, you are!" he exclaimed, wiping a tear of mirth. "I ain't here to threaten you. I hunt pirates, girly, and I know there's one among us. Help me find him, and I will keep it shut." He made a zipping motion to his lips, earning a scowl from Adelint.

She stood up and barged out of the tavern, her face contorted by fury, bright eyes clouded by a stormy frown as she maneuvered across the shady streets and alleys of Booty Bay, images of brutal murder from asphyxiation ruling her head as she killed Gavin and the bosun over and over again. She stopped dead on her tracks as she heard the distinct sound of a woman's excited moans coming from her normal lair. She approached silently, hand clasping about the dagger hanging from her belt, only to be met with the Captain's encounter with some manner of mistress that was currently pushed against a wall with her limbs wrapped about the grandiose Captain Hawkins.

Disgust and rage were not emotions that mixed well, yet there it was, that explosive cocktail, coursing through her veins, scalding her entire being as she stood there and glared, images of horrible manslaughter flashing before her eyes. She would wrap her hands around Gavin's, Kimball's and this woman's neck. She would squeeze, holding until they stopped breathing…

 _ **Until their eyes no longer moved and until their faces had turned a delightful, strange color blue.**_

 _ _(I do not own anything recognizable, it is all Blizzard entertainment's property)__


	8. Gentlemen of Avarice

Gentlemen of Avarice  
" _ **A gentleman is nurtured, not born; one's profession has nothing to do with one's manners."**_

Fay relished in the dull thud the body made when it hit the floor. She relished in the way the blood pooled about the crumpled corpse, the sound the dagger made as she plucked it out of his chest, the way his crimson lifeblood barely stained her scarlet, silken handkerchief. The raven haired woman lived for this - It was who she truly was, a ruthless killer who enjoyed her job. With a flick of her wrist she planted the 'evidence' and swift hands rid the man of any and all valuables, staging the perfect murder from a heinous naval knave; they were aplenty here, anyway.

Silent, nigh liquid steps and strong lithe muscles carried her out of the alley as she climbed skillfully, resurfacing on the tavern's level, entering it with an unmistakable swagger in her step and the ever present, head-turning sway in her hips. A verdant gaze searched about the noisy, multi-racial establishment, seeking for the pair of bright amber orbs, alas it was in vain - Where was Adelint?... Fay frowned and pushed against the counter, rudely shoving a drunken patron and his advances, storming out in search for her trouble-attracting friend. ' _Bloody Adelint, not again.'_ she thought.

Her legs moved her around the port town of debauchery expertly, the town having been her second home for a better part of her life. Yet her blonde friend was gone, nowhere to be found amidst the sea of people browsing goods, swearing each other or shagging in the alleys. She was not lurking in her usual spots, away of sight - In fact the only familiar face she saw near where their 'dealer' resided, was Hawkins, hastily retreating like he had seen a ghost.

She dove beneath some crates as the thick, processed leather soles of the Captain thumped rhythmically against the oaken floor. Fay examined him, sizing up the situation - He was affixing his cravat, smoothing out his wrinkled shirt, all the while his hawkish gaze was ever vigilant. Or well - As vigilant as he could be with a predator around the corner.

It did cross her mind, truth be told. To jump him there and then, slit his throat and put an end to the filthy threat this beacon of justice, of light and emetic manners - Kill his light and snuff out the flickering flame of his life. She would do the world a favour and her friend… An even bigger one. ' _You have some nerve strutting around these streets in your uniform, Hawkins…'_ she wrinkled her nose in disgust. ' _Marching about with an air of authority and self-entitlement, like you own the place.'_ she thought.

It was a truly valiant battle she fought then, her fingers inched over the dagger as Captain Hawkins and his majestic presence sauntered by her; but she didn't do it. The infamous remnant of the Wagner family hesitated for the first time, not out of pity or remorse for that gentleman of avarice - But because of Adelint. And where the hells was she ANYWAY?

The bottle was hurled unceremoniously over her shoulder, smashing against some manner of solid surface, she wagered, since the crashing sound came soon after. Trained, lithe legs dangled off the edge, as Adelint sat on the pier by the goblin bank, her boots customarily taken off. A vain attempt to run slim fingers through tangled, blonde locks was made, marking them unsuccessful when she hissed at the impossibility of the task. How had she, thy Adelint Edelhart, ended up like this? Her dear partner in crime had asked her the precisely same question many times, in many tones and she never answered - She couldn't, she did not know. She had descended this spiral of alcoholism, drug abuse and general disdain - or disregard - for life, she had taken this complicated downward path for so long that the way back was nigh forgotten, forsaken. It was uncertain whether she even wanted to go back, truth be told.

Adelint's musings about the vanity and unimportance of life were interrupted by heavy steps of thick-soled boots. It did not take long for her hand to rest at the pommel of her dagger, fairly aware of someone standing behind her by now - They did little to mask their presence.

"Miss Sordelle, what are you doing here, on your own, without a chaperone?" came the voice of the last man she wanted to see, hear or acknowledge at this point. And she did not even turn to look at him, merely continued gazing ahead as boats and ships moved in and out, dangling her legs idly. "Do you not know this port is dangerous? All manners of deviants go around in the streets, all manner of killers, thugs, PIRATES!" he continued, adamant to say his entire monologue, like he did every single times, with minor tweaks here and there, depending on the setting and the people at the given time.

Irritated at her irresponsiveness, Hawkins merely sighed in frustration and grabbed her shoulder, shaking her faintly to see if she was awake. It was like electricity met a puddle of water and Adelint nearly jumped from her spot, turning around to look at him, appalled, offended, surprised - All together in that mix of emotions that crossed her kohl-lined eyes. "Are you even listening to me miss Sordelle, or am I talking to myself? Do you even weight the words I speak to you, or am I wasting both time and breath on you?" the Gilnean Captain said, thick brows furrowed as he set his Hawkish gaze on the bright amber eyes of his Surgeon, narrowing them in a silent comparison of authority.

Many a thought crossed her mind then, every single one of them more violent than the other, but like a timely saviour, as ever, the voice of the surgeon's mate sounded, ever pleasantly lilting and hoarse. "Adelint! There you are, I thought I lost you for a moment there." Fay said, her intoxicating, sweet smile plastered on her painted lips. "Oh, Captain." she added, in feigned surprise and saluted crisply.

Hawkins narrowed his eyes and eyed the woman, questioning silently if her timing was merely impeccable or if she watched them from a shady corner every passing minute. He dismissed the last thought as absurd and nodded professionally at the tanned female. "Miss Fletcher, had I not known you were a proper lady, I'd daresay you always watch over your friend and save her from the repercussions of her actions." he chuckled at his own joke, sauntering off towards the tavern.

Fay replied with a pleasant smile, which faded into an expression of disgust as soon as the grandiose Captain made distance. She turned to her friend who looked like a doe caught in headlights, staring at the departing naval officer. Before she would be questioned by the Westfall inquisition, Fay, a shriek echoed from some forgotten alley. Adelint instantly turned to look at her tanned friend, sighing, earning an 'innocent' shrug and a coy smirk.

"Whoops?" the raven haired woman said, batting her eyelashes as the goblin bruisers rushed to the spot and Hawkins turned on his heels, looking towards the narrow alleyway where the bruisers resurfaced from, dragging a mangled body of a very familiar boatswain. Needless to say, the two friends shifted their gaze to Hawkins immediately, unsure whether to relish or laugh in the facial expression he wore. Poor, poor Captain Hawkins.

"What in Greymane's name is this INSOLENCE?" He bellowed immediately, marching towards the body and eyeing the gruesome sight. His chest looked like a canvas with different shades of red and his uniform was torn from the blade that ended his life. "How can this be allowed in your port town, a member of the Royal Navy murdered - Nay, BUTCHERED, in the alleys of a port and NOBODY notices? This blood is still fresh!" Captain Hawkins continued, anger seeping through the cracks of his iron resolve. The goblins remained apathetic, simply staring or nodding where appropriate, repeating over and over it was not their responsibility while mopping the trail of blood. After twenty minutes of pointless, one sided lectures from Hawkins, the whole crowd dissolved and his hawkish eyes were redirected on the two women, storming off towards them.

"Brace for impact, Addie." Fay muttered and offered a wry grin, which Adelint did not return, her face a blank canvas as their turbulent sea of a Captain approached, offering them storms aplently in the form of his yelling; "And you two, better have a GOOD explanation why you are left UNATTENDED! Where is mister O'Connor HUH?!" he questioned, loudly at that, his flaming emerald eyes trained on Adelint who refused to offer him the slightest sliver of emotion. It was like throwing whiskey in the fire, explosive - Fay had no idea the Hawk had such strength in him, but he yanked Adelint to her feet with a fluid movement and dragged her inside. She remained there, blinking, trying to understand what had transpired between the outburst of physical violence and Adelint complying wordlessly. Something was definately amiss and she would find out what. Once the surgeon's mate made to walk to the tavern, she had the unmistakable feeling someone was watching her - A glance over her shoulder revealed a pair of amber, undead eyes trained on her person. The forsaken did little to mask his interest or his presence, in fact. Clad in rich purple, elaborate tailored robes, he beckoned her over with skeletal, long fingers. Fay took a moment to assess his features as she approached him; stricken by decay, half face reduced to only bones and sinews, the gruesome sight was mercifully shaded by the thick, purple cowl, making his glowing amber eyes look even more eerie and intimidating. Magic was strong with him, of that she was sure, she could practically feel the crushing power of fel energies seeping through his being as the Eldritch, hallowed man uttered hoarsely; "Greetings, living creature. I am Aribert Hern, doctor - And more." His accent was strange, not quite from Lordaeron, but quite similar to it. Fay dismissed the thought and assumed her normal, professional stance, doing her best to sound as intimidating and self-assured as she'd like. "I am Fay and that is all you need to know - What do you want, forsaken doctor?" she inquired, propping a hand on her hip and sparing a glance over her shoulder to ensure nobody was watching her converse with the Eldritch creature.

The forsaken sized her up, the muscles remaining on his face contorting in what may have been a grin as he responded with general nonchalance. "I saw what you did to that human." he wafted a hand towards the spot where the corpse of the boatswain had been. "I saw what you did to him, how you enthralled him and like a mouse drawn to cheese, he thought he would get a taste of the forbidden fruit - Alas you drew his lifeblood from him and gently, mirthfully took his life away while staring at him square in the eye."

Fay was left staring at the forsaken with narrowed eyes, inwardly cursing herself and trying to recall how he could have possibly seen her - She had made sure nobody was there, no goblin, no human, not even a cat. Her clenched jaw and train of thought amused him ever more as a hoarse chuckle escaped empty, unbreathing lungs and the forsaken doctor weaved his skeletal fingers until an eye lay floating over his palm. With a commanding word in a forgotten tongue it displayed the brutal murder and there was no mistaking on who it involved. Fay's eyes turned to the balcony from where this… Thing had watched her, cursing inwardly once more - She despised magic. "What do you want." she nigh ordered the hallowed doctor, staring at those lifeless whirlpools of eerie amber.

"Now, now dearie, no need for that tone - I merely think my silence is cheap to buy. Let us say you will owe me… Two favours." he said, raising two skeletal fingers. The clumsy murderer had no choice, that much she knew. With a frown and a pondersome frown she nodded, silently agreeing. "Ah excellent. Well then - Bring me that worgen of yours, this… Burly man with body hair in excess." he drawled, nodding gently to the direction of O'Connor, who was unsurprisingly watching. "What do you want with him, doctor?" she uttered before her mind could leash her tongue.

"I always liked specimen like him, very… Resilient, always refusing to die." he hissed with delight, turning his eyes back to the surgeon's mate. "What say you… 'Fletcher' woman?"

"And the other favour?" she asked, cocking a brow and shifting her weight on the other leg, growing uncomfortable near the undead's crushing, magical aura.

"When the time comes for it, I shall find you again… I have seen fate's fabric weaving - unkindly." he uttered and made to leave, stopped dead in his tracks as Fay called out.

"Where and how alive." she stated, arms folded in a last attempt to seem in control of the situation. They lingered there, staring at each other, eerie glowing amber meeting green before he finally responded.

"Outside, the cove to the left, there is a small cave - As alive as possible."

They both turned to leave and the gears on Fay's mind were already working, scheming and plotting as she stomped towards the tavern. Somehow she was sure that ' _Hey, a creepy undead warlocks wants to do wicked doctor things to you!'_ would not quite work. So deep she was in her thoughts that when a big hand grabbed her forearm and stopped her, she first slapped him and then checked who it was; O'Connor. Her face contorted oddly as he seemed unaffected by her slap, the two meter tall, hairy giant merely looking at her with worry. A pang of pity and regret pooled at the pit of her stomach then - How was she going to do this to him?

"Are you okay? Did he threaten you?" his deep voice asked, hesitant, careful, as if dealing with a fragile child. "I will hurt him for you, if you so give me the word." he said, hesitantly. Fay's mouth was left slightly ajar, looking into the gentle pits of honey brown that were his eyes. What manner of monster was she to hand him over to another monster that had every intention of destroying him…? She fought a losing internal battle, for when her survival instincts resurfaced, she was already wearing her mellow smile and oh-so-innocent gaze.

"Oh no - Well, he tried." she faked a stutter, sighing. "Look Connor, I'd rather not talk about it here. Care for a walk?" she suggested, putting on her best innocent eyes and shy smile - Oh and how easily it worked. He nodded so eagerly, offering her a muscular arm that she gladly took and then she led the way - Somehow knowing that the vile sorcerer watched her. And soon she was out of sight from her crew, out of the gates, into the jungle - And then in the cove, offering honeyed words to yet another innocent man. Another sacrificial lamb for the altar, to perish in the name of her self-preservation.

"Are you out of your mind?" Hawkins said relatively calmer, shutting the door to his rented room. Adelint as per this day, did not grace him with a reply, but with a blank expression and an apathetic gaze. The Captain stared at her, narrowing his eyes and exhaling raggedly, pouring himself some brandy. He could feel her eyes following his every movement and he used this time to redesign his approach to the odd woman - Her attitude was at least enraging him.

"Miss Sordelle, just what is wrong? When are you going to tire of being silent and looking at me like - Like some soulless ginger!" he finally exclaimed, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring up at her with a frown, his frustration now clear.

"I fear I do not understand, Captain Hawkins. I am merely fulfilling your wishes, I am being obedient and silent." she said with a voice devoid of all emotion, staring at him with the same dull look in her eyes. And she knew that he knew, she was mocking him.

"Miss Sordelle this is not you, it's like you are possessed by some demonic entity that sucked your soul out and -" he trailed off, sighing in defeat and downing his brandy. He merely unbuttoned his jacket and took it off, earning a questioning gaze from Adelint. With a sly glance he noticed her reaction and began unbuttoning his shirt, undoing his cravat - He shifted his hawkish gaze to her amber eyes, sitting barechested on the bed. "Well, since you are not in the mood to speak - How about you give me a massage? My old wound hurts." he stated nonchalantly, lying on the bed like some sheikh, motioning for the woman to do her 'duty'. Much to his surprise, again, Adelint silently complied, rummaging in her satchel for some of the oil she carried.

Not that he minded how her oiled hands slid across his flesh, soothing out his sore muscles and easing the tension… But she did so in silence, in a dull, empty mood - This was not the woman he met, this was an empty husk of a person. With a sharp movement he turned, grabbing her wrists and yanking her down to his eyelevel, their faces dangerously close.

"What in the Maelstrom is wrong with you miss Sordelle, are you punishing me for something?" he uttered, narrowing his eyes as a frown darkened his features. A sliver of emotion flickered over her features then, he was not sure what it was, but before he could decode it, someone was launched against the room's door, opening it and falling onto the floor.

Hawkins continued holding her wrists and she was still bent over the bed, both their heads observing the man that had fallen through - Reynald. Once amber and emerald eyes raised to seek who had 'helped' him fall on the door, none other than Hephaistos stood in the doorway, fist still extended, smiling awkwardly.

"Err - OOps?" he said, rubbing the back of his head, the blonde giving enough recovery time to Wolf, who bullcharged him, throwing him off the edge of the second floor and down on the first one. They probably both landed on a table, judging from the screams and sounds of crashing glass.

Adelint remained staring at where the two men once were, awakened from her trance as Hawkins cleared his throat and released her hands. "Shut the door miss Sordelle." he ordered sharply, pouring himself another brandy, loosely putting on his shirt and sitting on a chair. After complying with the order and shutting the door, Adelint was met with the sight of Hawkins seated on his 'throne' like some rogue-ish privateer, not being able to help her lips curling into a faint grin.

Hawkins studied her expression, offering her a wolfish, lopsided smirk and sipping pointedly. "I suppose you like what you see, miss Sordelle, but you are yet to tell me what's bothering you." he pushed on, crossing his legs and sliding further back in the comfortable chair.

Adelint pondered for a moment, eyeing the man briefly, if not disinterested. Her voice came hushed, and her words ran from her mouth before she could control them. "I lied about my previous occupation - Or rather, left out some truth."

Hawkins stood upright on his chair, his full attention fixated on her, all the playful mood gone. And she continued, knowing she have piqued his interest with her words - It was time to show that bastard that he should have not played games with her, not HER games, on HER ship, at least. Adelint did not even need to act, she stared at him dead in the eye, blankly and dully stating.

"I was a bounty hunter? - Call it what you wish. And there is a criminal on board this vessel."

A torrent of emotion crossed Hawkins' features, settling down to an angry, troubled frown. He emptied yet another glass of brandy and stood up, walking towards the woman, breaching her personal space and staring into her eyes.

"A criminal on my ship, miss Sordelle? Are you certain of this?" he uttered, a fist clenching on the side.

'Good'. Adelint thought, nodding slowly, finishing her elaborate plan of killing two birds with one stone. "At least one, they always operate in couples. This is how your boatswain died, he probably found out something he shouldn't have."

Hawkins frowned and buttoned up his shirt, beginning the procedure of reassembling his uniform. Upon being fully dressed once more, he made to leave, pausing in the entrance and looking at the blonde over his shoulder.

"And pray tell me miss Sordelle, what kind of criminal are we dealing with?" the Captain asked, one brow arched.

Adelint recalled Gavin's words, relishing in what she would do to this bastard for daring to challenge her. She smirked viciously, almost ferally, like a cat that had caught the mouse by the tail, as she uttered;

 ** _"_** ** _A gentleman of Avarice. A pirate, Captain."_**

 _(I own nothing recognizable, names, places and lore are property of Blizzard Entertainment.)_


	9. Divided we Stand

Divided we stand

" _ **The ghosts that we knew will flicker from view - And we'll live alone again."**_

Fay knew something was amiss when she saw Hawkins storming out of his room like a raving lunatic, pulling together the last pieces of his uniform on the way. She knew something was amiss when she saw Adelint standing there, leaning against the furniture with crossed arms and that wicked grin on her face. Amber eyes alight, met those fern green pools and wordlessly communicated - Promising each other chaos, storms of pain; the only thing that kept them alive.

"Mister Remmington gather the crew's most trusted men up and all the officers - We have an emergency." Hawkins spoke as he buttoned the last of his uniform up, causing the midshipman to rise from his seat and drop the woman on his lap on the floor, running to catch up with his Captain, stomping across the boards of the Bay.

"Mi- Oof. Might I inquire what the emergency is Captain?" Remmington huffed as he tried to keep up with the undoubtedly angered man.

"Pirate. In my crew. Be very careful whom you select, mister Remmington." William hissed between clenched teeth, seething in anger no doubt. It took moments for the midshipman to recover from the shock of the blow, but he set off immediately to round up the crew.

Quick footsteps and a determined gait took the good Captain Hawkins to his beloved Defiance faster than any favourable wind could and moments later he was drowning his trouble with amber brandy and suffocating it with the silvery trails of smoke coming from his cigar. A most troubling situation that was… A spy, a pirate amongst the ranks of the Navy had slipped past all background checks and ended up on his ship of all places. It was true, what they said, women bring ill fortune and bad luck of a ship.

He narrowed his hawkish eyes, bright, emerald pools staring out of his stained glass window while his mind raced, raced away. Ever since she'd stepped on board everything had gone to hell. His boatswain was slain, his sister was roaming the streets with her ragtag bunch of pirates and of course, she'd almost given him a heart attack with her near death. It was as though she carried a curse.

The rapping of knuckles on his door awoke him from the train of miserable thoughts as he invited whoever it was to come in. His Lieutenant, his midshipman, mister Thatcher, that old sodden man and another sea-beaten salty dog were inside.

"Lieutenant Rodgers, Midshipman Remmington, Mister Bill Thatcher and mister Isaac Huxley reporting in, Sir." the midshipman said in a tone most chipper, all men standing in attention before their Captain.

"Gentlemen I will be brief and cut to the chase - We have a pirate amongst our kin, a most vile avaricious fiend seeking to infiltrate his Majesty's Navy and sell information to the pirates." William spoke, crushing the remainder of his cigar on the ashtray, eye twitching momentarily with the underlying rage. "You are here because I trust you, gentlemen - Because my officers trust you. You are to be careful and find this fiend, so I may hang him."

"Erh, Sir, if you don' min' me asking, o'course…" spoke Thatcher, flashing a most honeyed smile to reveal glimmering teeth in the lantern's light.

"Go on, mister Thatcher." the Captain prompted, emptying yet another glass of amber poison, sighing at the familiar burn in his throat.

"How are we common folk to know where to find this erh - Gentleman o' ill repute? I mean, urh… Cap'n who gave you hints of such a heinous crimes, surely they mus' have a lead!" the greying seawolf said, struggling to keep his back proud and straight by applying as little weight as possible to his sodden, crippled leg.

William paused then, midst pouring another glass of a different drink this time. He laid the crystal bottle there, with its ornate cork on and rubbed his beard, verdant gaze staring over to the horizon. How could he know what she said was true? Why was he so eager to believe her, to follow her word, to-

"It's a trusted source." he finally said, almost dismissively, passing on the subtle message he would negotiate no more information on his source. "Find him, I know there is a pirate amongst our mid and he will be the one standing out, he will be strange. Not directly, but notice the little things. The sly gazes, the muttering."

"Aye aye Cap'n" Thatcher finished, all of them excusing themselves and leaving the Captain to his alcohol and tobacco imbued brooding.

He trusted her, William then realized. It was uncertain if it was those amber pools, full of impassive, uncaring stares, or the way she occasionally smiled when her brother or friend were about. The great and good Captain Hawkins had come to trust this blonde devil, this insignificant woman with the withered features and sunken eyes; somehow she'd taken grasp of his attention, despite being on par with the street urchins or those that abused alcohol in the most disrepute places in Stormwind. Yet somehow, the person he'd sooner bypass on a normal day had started bringing everything upside down - And it terrified him.

"Have you lost your mind, Addie?" Hephaistos exclaimed, staring over at his sister, blue eyes alight. Adelint gifted her brother the impassive stares she only saved for her Captain, a coy grin accompanying it. "I know what I am doing, Heph." she said, turning her head to observe the growing impatience of the men that had gathered above the Captain's cabin, shoving each other for the chance to hear something of the meeting. Fay shook her head at the pitiful attempts of her fellow sailors, such amateurs they were - For her.

"Belay yer scummy attempts y'eavesdroppeing jack-tars!" came the gruffy voice of Bill Thatcher as he hobbled towards the gathering, dragging along his crippled leg. The honey from his smile was all but gone, leaving behind only a scowl of distaste. "Well what are ye' looking at - Back t'yer stations you scoundrels o' ill repute! OFF YA' GO!" he roared, sailors scurrying about like cockroaches, returning to their stations and daring not question the older sea-wolf.

Adelint followed Thatcher with her gaze, kohl-lined, amber and intense, her eyes traced his every movement, his every facial expression - Like a feline's eyes tracing a potential prey.

"Why missus Sordelle, how can this ol' dog help ye' today?" he said, the honeyed smile finding its way back to his lips, but not reaching his eyes as he flourished a bow before the surgeon. There were very few things that could lift her mood, aside from tobacco and alcohol, and one of them was this old, gruffy sailor.

"Why mister Thatcher…" she said, offering him a rare smile "I was hoping I could steal but a moment of your time."

The older, greying sailor perched a thick brow, but flashed his golden-tooth smile at her anyway and extended a hand to direct her below. "Why missus Sordelle, I could ne'er deny our good docta' such a request!"

The surgeon was unsure why, but for some reason she felt familiar with this man. So she did precisely what Fay always told her to never do - She revealed who she was and what information she had, for the second time that day. At least the older sailor was taking it well.

"Why missus Sordelle… I always saw th'fire in yer eyes, I did… Are ye certain o' this pirate?" the gravelly voice asked, hushed from its normal sonorous volume.

"Frankly mister Thatcher? I already know one of the two - I just keep it low until I find the second one." Adelint chirped at the seawolf, watching his reaction closely. His face soured and he frowned, nodding.  
"I hear ya' bon… So you were th'one to tell the Cap'n after all…" he came to the conclusion, earning a nod from the blonde. "He wanted to keep yer identity a secret bon… Why are y'telling me?" the gravelly voice said hushedly, looking around for anyone watching or listening in.

"Intuition, mister Thatcher. It kept me alive long enough." Adelint said, offering a faint smile and walking off towards the stairs leading to her quarters. There naturally had been a crowd of sailors trying to eavesdrop at the two, right around the corner… And Adelint only heard the distant screaming of mister Thatcher, calling them yellow-bellied curs and mudlarks of all sorts. A truly remarkable man their new boatswain was, this… Mister Thatcher. Perhaps the only likeable individual on board.

And when the blonde entered her quarters, she found Fay staring at her with eyes narrowed and arms crossed, Reynald sitting on the bed, legs dangling as he pressed a cloth against a bleeding forehead.

"About time you showed up. This idiot decided to start a fight." Fay spat, throwing her hand towards the man with the rogueish smile. Adelint sauntered over towards him, calmly and silently taking care of the wound, then stitching it carefully.

"Aren't you going to say anything? He was acting like a beligerent murloc, Noctis!" Fay said, glaring at the unaffected rogue of a sailor. "Stop smirking you bloody TOAD!"

"Stop losing your patience with him, Veru." came an extremely unamused, cold voice from Adelint's direction. "Just because he is the last one of the originals, does not mean you get to unleash your frustration on him. It's not his fault he survived." the blonde said, the very temperature of the room dropping, arctic cold settling between the otherwise inseparable friends.

"You're one to talk, Noctis. You are one to bloody talk about death and releasing frustration on others. Ever since the wolf kille-" Adelint shot from where she knelt, bashing Fay against the wall, a dagger pointed against her jugular. The calm, composed or otherwise drunk female was like a rabid hound, ready to bite Fay's head off.

"Watch your tone and your tongue around me, Wagner. Or I will send you to meet your siblings that succumbed to their WEAKNESS." she spat through gritted teeth, burning pools of scorching amber threatening to consume the fern green eyes of Fay's.

"I am not afraid of you, or of death you threaten me with, Edelhart." the raven haired woman responded, voice and eyes dull and void of emotion. "If you are looking for weakness, for frustration that is pent up and seeping, you only need to look in a mirror." Fay's otherwise sweet voice spat, swatting away Adelint's armed hand and storming off the cabin, slamming the door shut.

Adelint remained there, staring at the wooden wall, plunging the dagger in forcefully and returning to Reynald, who silently watched, the shit eating grin still plastered on his fair features.

"I could get used to ladies fighting over me, truth be told." he drawled as the surgeon finished stitching his wound, inspecting her frown and her stiff posture.

"I wish I could share your humours and good mood, Reynald." Adelint snapped at him, standing and plucking the dagger out of the wall. The blonde stood, looking at his comrade's stance and placing a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it affectionately.

"Take it easy Addie. Remember, united we stand, always stood and survived." he threw at her, before leaving the cabin, with less noise than his predecessor, leaving the blonde exactly as she had felt for the last eight years of her life. Completely and utterly alone.

" _United we stand. United we fight. United we survive. Divided, we fall, brothers and sisters."_ a voice echoed in her memory, causing a pang of regret to tear through her chest. Red hair flourished in the summer breeze and green, smiling eyes were staring at her. " _United, always."_

 _ **Alas, the voice belonged to a ghost, and much like all the regrets Adelint had, the memories flickered away and gave way to bitterness as the sun rose.**_


End file.
